The Children of Remnant
by Selene Sokal
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Queen Salem revealed herself to the people of Remnant with an offer: a reduction in Grimm across the globe, but in exchange, five children, one from each nation, were to be delivered to her as a hostage. Now, those children are returning to civilization for the first time, and no one knows what to expect or how they were changed by the experience.
1. Arrival

**CW: Most of this story will be T rated, but this story will contain scenes of graphic violence and descriptions of child abuse.**

Qrow was midway through his third sweep of the landing pad when his companions arrived. He'd almost missed them, so focused was he on carefully checking for any concealed devices hidden beneath the boarding ramps that he hadn't heard their footsteps in the rain. "Amber. Summer," he said, slowly getting up from his knees with nothing more for them than a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"Geez, Qrow," Amber mused, "what's got you all paranoid?"

He gave her a sarcastic look. "Oh, I don't know," he groused, "maybe the Queen of Evil is sending a delegation to the eyes of the whole world and if anything goes wrong it's the first shot in an apocalyptic war? That tends to put an old guy like me on edge."

Fifteen years ago, Salem, Queen of the Grimm revealed herself to the world of Remnant and offered a deal. A global reduction of the Grimm threat but in exchange… hostages. Children, specifically, one from a selected, prominent family of each nation. Four humans and one Faunus, no more than three years old, were taken to… somewhere. And for fifteen years, scarcely any word came back. Salem was true to her word, the Grimm threat greatly receded, but… the knowledge that she held onto those children, that there was a reason she _wanted_ children, never let people feel like this was truly at peace. They called it the Separation, and most people preferred not to think about it, if it was avoidable.

But tonight, those five children would be coming back.

A flash of lightning and a crack of thunder accompanied that dramatic thought. But it seemed some people were better at handling the anxiety than others. "Come on!" Amber laughed, "You've got the Fall Maiden, a Silver-Eyed Warrior, and you… also contribute, Qrow. We'll be fine, no matter _what_ is coming on that Bullhead."

He shook his head. "That's not what I'm worried about. We're doing this all wrong," he griped, gesturing with his hands, "We're worried about dangers coming from _their _side, when more than half the threat of something goin' wrong is on _ours._"

She just gave him a skeptical look. "Who on Remnant would be stupid enough to attack the Queen of the Grimm?"

"Jacques Schnee? Ghira Belladonna? She took children from the most powerful families in the world, they are not the sort to accept-"

"They don't have to be stupid," Summer cut in, "they just have to be _parents. _Losing a child is… it's enough." There was a haunted note in her voice that cut right through both Qrow's cynicism and Amber's cheer. "I remember when… we had to… pick up that little boy," Qrow stiffened at the memory. He and Summer had been part of the escort. Really, they were there in case the Arc family... refused to hand over their child, but the thought of… taking him by force wasn't something Qrow relished imagining. He still remembered the little boy, just three years old and unable to understand what was happening. The anguished look on his mother's face... "When we did that, all I could think was 'What if it was Yang? What if Yang was chosen?' and I couldn't… I couldn't imagine losing her."

They took a moment of silence. Qrow might not have been a father himself, but it didn't take much to imagine what it would have done to Tai and Summer if one of their little girls was one of the claimed. Hell, the thought of losing one of his dear nieces… he shivered, though it had nothing to do with the weather.

Amber scuffed her shoe against the pavement. "Well," she said, more to break the silence than to speak, "I guess we just have to be ready for anything, then, don't we?"

Qrow grunted, casting his eyes back over the landing pad, wondering what tiny detail he might have missed that would make all the difference in the world in just a short few minutes. He really wished it wasn't raining, for how it cut his visibility, but he had to admit: a dark and rainy night was perfectly dolorous for what they had coming.

He heard a door open, and he turned to see the Deputy Headmistress cross the walk, umbrella in hand, looking as neat and composed as she always did. Except, Qrow knew she that she was never the last to arrive for anything—something wasn't how it ought to be.

"Glynda? Everything seem alright on your end?" he called to her, hoping his tone came off more concerned than worried.

She waved them off. "An event like this inevitably has last minute issues. I hope my absence was not a problem?"

"Everything's fine on our end," Summer replied. "Qrow rechecked the landing site, while Amber and I can confirm that the area is clean."

Glynda nodded. They had done everything, and they'd done it correctly and they'd done it redundantly, and yet… it still felt like it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. "Allow me to cover the itinerary for one final review. The arriving Bullhead contains only six individuals: Cinder Fall, the Queen's majordomo and our lead contact to her side, and the five children. You will escort the children to their room—we've been instructed that they are to share a room, and so they will be staying in Room 531, which has already been prepared for their visit—at which time you will return to the command center to speak with Headmaster Ozpin. I will walk with Ms. Fall to her room and discuss some matters for facilitating their visit. Once the children have been settled in, you will return to their room to escort two of them to speak with the Committee. After they have been returned to their room, we are to have no further role in their immediate security, per Ms. Fall's request."

The three of them nodded their assent, having long since read the description of the plan. "Any last minute changes?" Summer asked.

Glynda shook her head. "No. However... I anticipate we'll find Ms. Fall to be a... difficult guest, so expect that she might propose some changes to the itinerary. In the event she does so, do not refuse her, but be certain to inform me."

Qrow groaned to hear it. He wasn't honor guard material. None of them were—they were Ozpin's toughest fighters, not parade guards who knew how to avoid etiquette disasters. But Oz wanted to make a show of strength rather than etiquette and, when it came to Salem, Oz was their best shot of "knowing what he's doing," so what choice did they have but to go along?

But it seemed they were out of time. Glynda looked off into the distance. "That's them," she announced, and Qrow, following her eyes, spotted the telltale glint of a Bullhead's lights growing larger through the rain. "Get ready. We have no idea what we're about to see."

He braced himself, hearing Summer's breath catch, and even Amber making a murmured reminder to herself to keep focused as she gripped her staff. And soon the sound of the Bullhead got louder and louder as it slowly, portentously, landed.

And then a door opened, and the pilot stepped out. She was surprisingly young, likely even younger than Amber, who was still in her twenties. Dark haired, and looking more _femme fatale _than secretary, especially with the way her golden eyes glinted in the darkness. But she had that severity, that look as though everything was exquisitely and carefully planned that made her seem very much Glynda's equal opposite. "Deputy Headmistress," she said as she nodded towards her.

"Ms. Fall," Glynda addressed her as she stepped forward. The two women exchanged a curt, professional handshake, but it held no more than the bare minimum of the artificial courtesy that either of the two women was able to muster. "On behalf of Headmaster Ozpin and the Council of Vale, I welcome you to Beacon. I hope your trip was without incident."

Fall gave another curt nod. "It was. And my Queen sends her regrets that she is unable to attend in person," Qrow shuddered at the thought of that _creature_ making a personal appearance. Seeing her on video had been unsettling enough. "But," she said as she walked to the passenger door of the Bullhead, "May I present to you the royal family."

Royal… family? That was new information, and deeply worrying. He glanced at Summer, but he hardly had time to think about it before Fall opened the door and revealed the children to his sight.

Though they weren't… They weren't children. What they were, he... didn't know.

Human in shape and form, but unmistakably altered, having the same Grimm-infused look of the Queen. Whatever Salem had done to them—and he feared to imagine what they'd been put through in the Grimmlands—had left them unmistakably marked.

Two of them were as unnaturally chalk-white as the Queen. One with long white hair kept in a side ponytail, the other with pitch black hair and a pair of cat ears—she was the one from Menagerie, Qrow guessed. The white-haired one had a broad, happy smile across her face that, unsettling in its own way, drew attention away from the lines of black corruption tracing crazy patterns across her skin.

Qrow's attention, though, was fixed on a powerful-looking girl, her fiery red hair signifying that she had to be the daughter of Admetus and Alcestis Nikos. And, like her parents, she looked like a warrior—and unlike her parents, she had bony, white plates of Grimm armor forming a cuirass and greaves. Bracers protected her forearms, and those patterns of black monstrousness across her skin, seemed to pulse with unnatural vitality... her body seemed to radiate power and invincibility. An air of controlled violence hung around her the way the air over the road shimmered on a hot day, while her unnatural glowing green eyes looked to be scanning them for threats. Qrow knew what a warrior looked like, and this girl… Qrow really hoped that there'd never be a reason for the two of them to have to go to blows.

The last two seemed… almost entirely human, but no less disturbing. One had no visible evidence of being… part-Grimm or whatever it was that had warped them. Her dark skin and green hair suggested to Qrow that she was the Vacuan, but though he couldn't spot anything off with her… she just had a resonance of wrongness that unsettled him. And the final one, the one in the front, whom the other four seemed to fan out from behind him… he looked almost entirely human, even likably so. Tall, broad shouldered, and with the sort of messy blond hair that reminded Qrow of Tai more than anything—he was a little paler than Tai, but next to all the unnatural whiteness, his skin stood out with its healthy peach color.

But his eyes… that was where the humanity stopped. They were red, glowing and inhuman. No iris, sclera, anything quite like a human eye. They were the eyes of a Grimm and meeting his gaze triggered a primordial fight-or-flight reflex deep in his gut. And then he spoke.

"I am Prince Jaune, son of Queen Salem, Prince of the Grimm, and Royal Protector of the Grimmlands, formerly of Vale and formerly of the Arc family." His voice was… well, _human. _Polite, diplomatic, but with his eyes… it was like a Beowulf inviting you for tea. He extended his hand to Glynda, who, fortunately, had the presence of mind to take it in her grip. "It is good to return to my homeland. I hope that this visit brings peace between our nations."

Glynda nodded, slowly, clearly as shocked as Qrow felt, but doing a much better job of hiding it. "Glynda Goodwitch. Deputy Headmistress of Beacon Academy. We welcome you to Vale."

Qrow had to admire what a pro Goodwitch was—if he was in her shoes, he certainly would still be too busy reeling from their appearance to handle a handshake and a greeting. And her example reminded him that he had to keep his wits up—because he had no idea what any of this meant, but his gut told him it was very, very bad.

But this… Prince Jaune seemed to be relieved, even honestly grateful for Glynda's professionalism. Qrow caught a trace of a smile crack the boy's face as he gestured to the rest. "And these are my sisters, the Daughters of Salem." He pointed to them in turn. "Pyrrha, Blake, Emerald, and Weiss. We come in peace to foster better relations and pursue the cause of peace across Remnant."

Each of the girls nodded, Weiss even giving a curtsy as she was introduced, but from the looks of things… Qrow was rather skeptical that they were here to do anything to further the "cause of peace" _anywhere_.

But… that wasn't his job. It'd be up to Oz and the other leadership types to figure out how to handle this development. As Glynda and Fall headed away from the Bullhead and out of the rain, Summer signaled to Amber and him to lead the children—even if they sure as hell didn't look like it—into Beacon.

He knew from the beginning that they had no idea what to expect with this visit, but as he walked alongside the children (the Vacuan, Emerald, he believed, whose skin seemed to… shift in the light) he realized how ill-equipped his imagination was for thinking of all the ways this could go wrong.

* * *

Unpacking was a strange experience for Pyrrha. This was the first time they'd made an official trip out of the Grimmlands, so "packing" was already a strange concept for all of them, but unlike her siblings, Pyrrha had been mostly trained in the field. She was the Eagle, the war-standard, and needed to be a capable general, and that meant leading armies from the front, in the dirt and the mud. There, she had to carry her own kit and, as such, always packed light. Under Mr. Rainart and Professor Callows's guidance, she'd been trained not to rely on anything that couldn't be kept on her person, but this… this wasn't a field operation. It was nothing like it at all, she thought as she glanced at the numerous formal dresses and outfits and all the luggage where she wasn't even sure _what _was in it…

It was all rather overwhelming, so she decided to focus on the things she _did_ know. Her siblings.

She glanced over to her youngest sister, lying on the bed and playing with her dolls. "Weiss," she sighed, in her big-sisterly way "Mother said you weren't to use any hexes while-"

"I'm _not,_" she insisted, but kept poking the doll with a needle. "I'm just poking it."

"Is it anyone in particular?" Jaune asked, his gentle humor clear in his voice as he moved a suitcase over to her bed, "Not anyone we're about to meet with, I hope."

"No. Just a guy," was all Weiss replied with, her attention still focused on driving a long needle into the doll's spine. She was the Raven, though, perhaps, the Nevermore fit her better. She had drunk deep of the Pool of Darkness and had become mistress of Grimm and dark magic. Though not without cost.

Turning to Jaune, she saw as he picked up another suitcase. She frowned, and then addressed him in a tone she hoped didn't come off as nagging, "My Prince, let us handle the unpacking. It is not a duty that you need to concern yourself with."

"I can't just make my little sisters do all the work!" he laughed.

"No," she conceded, "but you do have to get ready for your meeting with the Academy Headmasters, and you're not even dressed for it yet."

Jaune was about to respond, but then he paused, his eyes going wide. "...wait, what time is it?"

"7:45"

"Oh." Then he evidently did some math in his head, "_Oh, _I've only got fifteen minutes!"

"Less, because the escort will be here before the meeting begins."

"I know!" he moaned, as he quickly moved to throw on the formal attire that had been laid out for him on the bed. "I don't understand why Mother _insisted _on this stupid cape..." he griped as he hurried to put on the bulky and, frankly, bizarre outfit Mother had sent him with.

She stifled a giggle at the sight, knowing she still had work to do. And speaking of… she turned to her sister. "Weiss, you need to get ready, too."

"Mmmm," was all she replied, far too focused on sticking pins into the doll's eyes.

She was about to speak, but Jaune beat her to the punch. "Can Nice Weiss come out?" he asked, gently, as he approached their sister's bed.

"Don't wanna," she said, refusing to look up from her doll as she stabbed another long pin into its neck.

But Jaune was used to this. "Well… can she come out for ice cream?"

She stopped jabbing the doll and then, hesitantly, looked up. "...cookie dough ice cream?"

Jaune smiled, ruffling her hair, "Would you think I'm so cruel to offer ice cream and not have your favorite?"

"With chocolate syrup?"

"I specifically instructed Ms. Fall to pack exactly that."

"Okay!" she smiled, then her face seemed to morph, not literally, like Emerald's power, there was no actual shifting of shape, but it was a total change in her bearing and person. She simply took up the persona of Nice Weiss, the elegant and refined diplomat. "Please, lead the way, dear Brother," she said, her voice sounding like a royal princess and not a murderous child. "Allow your sister to assist you in greeting the Headmasters of the Academies."

Jaune took her arm, and, after Pyrrha quickly touched up his outfit, led her out to their meeting, a quick goodbye to his other sisters before they left.

Pyrrha sighed, hoping they'd be alright. Of all of them, Weiss had taken the Separation the hardest. The stress had been too much for her, even before she was taken to the Pool of Darkness, but that made them all fiercely protective of their "little sister." None more so than Jaune. It was Jaune who held her hand, told her to be brave, and promised to stay with her no matter what when she had her night terrors and panic attacks.

But, then again, Jaune had been there for all of them. He was the one who stood up to Mother on their behalf, he was the brave one, their leader. Even though Pyrrha had taken to the power of the Darkness better than anyone, willingly conceding her humanity to become a nigh-invincible warrior and a peerless General to the Grimm horde, Jaune was the heir, the Prince of the Grimm. But Mother had told her that she was the favorite of her daughters, her mightiest creation, and that she would serve her Prince well as his warrior. She had hoped so, when the Darkness poured into her and sought to _take _her self away, she bargained, trading everything she could to become someone who could repay her brother, to become _his_ protector.

She was her Prince's sword, his weapon to be used against his enemies. She was his bodyguard, his general, his greatest champion, all for a single purpose. A purpose she had been waiting to engage for _years._ She felt like a coiled spring, like her body was suffused by this great _yearning _to serve, to prove her devotion to her Prince. These… diplomatic endeavors were so important to Jaune, but if she could only take up the armies of Salem, the command of the Grimm Horde and _deliver_ the nations of Remnant to her Prince, he would see what he _meant _to her.

"You know he's your brother right?"

She was startled out of her memories and whirled on Blake who was, of course, slightly too close for Pyrrha's personal comfort. Of course she had shadow-stepped to sneak up on her while she was distracted. She scowled at her sister, but knew not to deign to give her a response.

Not that that ever stopped Blake. She was the Hawk, the eyes that missed nothing, and then, never shut up about what she saw. "Because you're really not supposed to look at your brother like that. One of the few things Humans and Faunus cultures both agree on, actually."

"Are you having this conversation with _Weiss?" _she snapped.

"Nah," Blake shrugged, "If I told Weiss it was taboo, she'd probably just be _more _into him. Besides, I think Weiss just wants to kill people for him, while _you… _want to jump his bones."

"I don't! I- Shut up! I don't want _that!_" she glowered at Blake, "You're just being gross because of your _stupid _books."

Blake gasped in mock affrontement, "Those 'books,' as you called them, are _not _stupid, they're _literature, _and if you, my dear sister, were _cultured, _you would know that."

She rolled her eyes and went back to unpacking. She and Blake typically got along, being the most level-headed and pragmatic of their siblings, but Blake certainly enjoyed needling her, especially when she got the chance to imply that she was the brains and Pyrrha, just the brawn. It was restlessness, she figured, the same restlessness she was feeling, but while Pyrrha was trained to be her brother's champion, Blake had been trained to advise him on affairs of state and society. And, not being able to do that quite yet, she focused her manipulative nature on those closest to her. Which was, of course, a joy for Pyrrha to experience.

"You do know that he's about to be engaged to Ms. Fall, right?" Pyrrha turned her glare towards Emerald, who, at least, flinched a little to be the target of her ire. She was the Shrike, the only one who knew violence at Pyrrha's level, but the two of them never got along. For obvious reasons. "It's true, you know," she said, a little defensively. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Oh, yes, of course," Blake said sarcastically, "because, like everything else in our lives things that _make sense_ are invariably true."

"He's totally into her," Emerald countered, and Pyrrha had to suppress a laugh, "He _is, _you just don't want to see it. It totally makes sense, too, cause she's beautiful and brilliant and elegant and so mature and _obviously_ has Mother's blessing."

"No, _you're _totally into her," Pyrrha jabbed, then added, under her breath, "Suck up."

"I am not a suck up!" Emerald protested as she flung a pillow at her, but Pyrrha easily caught it out of the air. With a glance, it was shredded, as though torn apart by a thousand invisible blades.

Emerald reached for another, but Blake, fortunately, interrupted. "What are you guys thinking about Parents Night?" she cut in, averting the fight, "Been fifteen years since we've seen our former parents and all. Probably got a lot to talk about."

Pyrrha and Emerald both stilled at that. They hadn't talked much about Parents Night. They hadn't wanted to. It was frightening to think about, being alone with people they only had the vaguest, furthest memories of, and… what could they expect? They certainly didn't look like they did when they had left.

Pyrrha was of the opinion it would be better to not have the event at all, and to just inform their biological families that it would be best for both sides not to open any old wounds. "I will thank them for their sacrifice and inform my former parents that I am doing well," she mutely replied.

"Oh, come on," Blake teased, "This is an _opportunity, _those suckers are _desperate _to hear from their children and, oh yeah, they're _really influential and powerful people. _All you have to do is shed a few tears and they'll be eating out of your hand. Like this!" and then, with tears suddenly streaming down her face, Blake became the very image of a lost and frightened girl. "Oh, mommy, daddy, I _knew _I'd see you again! I knew it! I've missed you so, so much!" Then, just as suddenly as she began, she snapped right back to regular, emotionally removed Blake with such speed that even Pyrrha felt a little unsettled, "I'll win them over in an instant, and then Menagerie is _ours. _And with Faunus in every kingdom, it gives me an _excellent _network of overt and covert contacts all across Remnant, just for a few tears."

"Oh, Menagerie is surely a valuable alliance," Emerald smugly cut in, "but I don't think that kind of foreign relations will be necessary, because _I'm _a-"

"A Vacuan Princess," Blake interrupted, "You've only told us this _a million _times over the past ten years."

Emerald stuck her tongue out. "Well it's true," she huffed, "And Ms. Fall told me that Mother might give me permission to use my old name to press my claim for the throne if it's an opportunity. Can you imagine?" she sighed, "Princess Emerald Vacuo. I'll be sure not to forget you when I'm living in my castle."

But that turned Pyrrha wrathful. "We gave up our former names," she said, eyes narrowing, "when we were claimed by Mother. And I would remind you, Emerald," she gave her voice a crackle of dark magic, enough to even make Blake's eyes dart nervously, "that this family has _one _Prince, and your duty is to _him."_

But even if she was afraid, Emerald still didn't hold back. "You're just jealous that Jaune likes Ms. Fall more than he likes a savage like _you._"

_That _touched a nerve. Pyrrha felt the powers of darkness _pulse _in her breast as her sister's fists morphed into massive claws—Ursa's claws, a foolish choice. Pyrrha's armor could- "Do you think," Blake whispered in her ear, "Jaune would be happy to hear you got in a fight with Emerald while he was out?"

She stilled, The darkness withdrew from the room as she regained her composure. Emerald, seemingly realizing how close she came to a beatdown, stood awkwardly as her hands morphed back to human form. Still, she couldn't resist one last parting shot. "Well, I have to go with Ms. Fall to meet with _Roman Torchwick, _so have fun staying in, losers!"

As soon as she exited the room, Pyrrha made to punch the wall, but stopped herself, realizing she didn't want to explain to Jaune why there was a hole in their room. But with no other option to vent her fury, she picked up another pillow, and shredded it on a molecular level, leaving nothing but a pile of dust. She looked down at the dust, taking satisfaction as she imagined it to be one of her Prince's foes, but then she looked up to Blake's nonplussed face.

"Do you think it's wise to antagonize her?" she asked.

Pyrrha huffed, "Emerald and I have been fighting since we were _children, _and I'm not going to stop unless _she's _going to stop, too."

"We need to be a unified front, Pyrrha, now more so than ever."

"Oh? And I'm sure," she glared at her with force enough that Blake was forced to look away, "a 'unified' front doesn't just mean us all doing exactly what you tell us to do. And if Emerald's going to keep implying that Ms. Fall has a dangerous intent on _our brother,_ well," she huffed, "it's your duty to protect him from _those _interests, isn't it?"

"That's exactly why I'm _not. _I mean, I think Emerald's _way _misreading everything," and she gave a little chuckle, which made Pyrrha feel a little better to hear that her most analytical sister felt that there was nothing going on there. "But come on: you know that there's a divide between Jaune and Mother. I know where you and Weiss stand on that divide, but with Emerald, it's asking where _Ms. Fall's _loyalty lies… and I don't know about you, but I _think _that's a good reason to encourage the two of them to get along, if you know what I mean."

That… that was… Pyrrha reeled at that. It wasn't just the idea of necessary alliances, but rather, Blake so openly claiming that there was a divide between Jaune and Mother. Yes, it was- she knew- but it was _impossible _for Pyrrha to even think it! Jaune _alone_ contradicted Mother. The rest had been long trained that resistance was unthinkable. He was the only one who disagreed with her, challenged her, and, in the scariest times in Pyrrha's life, even _fought _with her. Even _imagining_ opposing Mother was… she simply couldn't. None of them could. Except, apparently, Blake. And if Blake was already preparing… then Pyrrha had to, too. Even if it was impossible, even if it was unimaginable, there was nothing Pyrrha wouldn't do to protect her brother.

Blake took her hands in her hand, and looked her softly in the eyes. "I'm just saying, the only way to protect Jaune is to keep us all united."

Pyrrha nodded, slowly, and took a deep breath before she did something she wasn't good at: conceding. "Al- alright. Just… tell me what to do, Blake, and I'll… I'll try to get along." And Blake smiled, her natural smile, with its thousands of razor-sharp teeth. "You're not supposed to show your teeth this visit," she sniffed, to which Blake simply added more teeth.

"Jaune just said I couldn't show my teeth to any _humans, _I'm allowed to show them to you. And any Faunus I really want to scare, if it comes down to that. And," she smirked, but, thankfully, with her smile returning to that of a Faunus's mouth, "he didn't say anything about my claws or my tail or my-"

She threw a pillow at her sister. "Come on, you're not going to do anything that might cause you to _lose advantage,_" she teased, knowing her sister couldn't bear the thought of being anything other than a persuasive manipulator.

Her grin softened to something more playful, and Pyrrha felt a little better seeing this side of her sister. "Maybe I'll just find some anti-Faunus bigot or someone Jaune doesn't like, and make their life _hell _for a few weeks… creeping through the darkness, looming over their bed, they wake up and see _this,_" she opened her mouth wide, revealing her rows and rows of white razors leading into an infinite darkness.

And Pyrrha couldn't resist smiling at that thought. She really, really wanted this trip to go well, because she knew how important it was for Jaune, but at the same time, she also really wanted to cut loose, to be as monstrous as she could be and to finally show her brother that she _was _his weapon of war, the implement of his will. That they all were, his general, his advisor, his assassin, his mage—the Eagle, the Hawk, the Shrike, and the Raven—as much as they were his sisters. It was her fondest wish that they could be his Birds of Prey, to deliver all of Remnant to him, just as they had spent their whole lives preparing for.

But it wasn't time for that, not yet. Instead, they were... here. She looked to Blake softly. "I just… I _don't like this_, any of this," she admitted, "things are changing and I don't know what's coming next." And all of it was diplomacy, not even _subterfuge_ where her fearsome strengths could be, at least, a little useful.

Blake gave her a sympathetic nod. "Me too," she replied. "Listen, I know Emerald can be… a bit much, but she's family, and family is all we have. I'm doing what I can to use my skills to keep us safe, just like you are."

Pyrrha gave her sister a hug. "Okay," she agreed, "I'll try to be nice and get along, but… I'm not letting Ms. Fall make a move on our brother. If she does, I'll-"

"You'll pull her arms off, I know," and Blake smiled at her, "and don't worry: I know that she knows it, too."

* * *

Jaune sank into the chair as he finally, for the first time since the night before, he allowed himself to relax. He knew he wasn't out of danger yet, they wouldn't be out of danger until they were safely returned to the Grimmlands, but, at least, his two biggest fears had not come to pass.

His sister's hadn't destroyed Beacon for a perceived slight (at least, not yet), and they hadn't been shot out of the sky on approach. And, really, those two fears had taken up so much of his mind for the past few months, everything else now felt quaint!

Well, he'd like to tell himself that. But it was a relief that things had gotten this far without incident.

The meeting was exactly as he'd been told to expect: incredibly formal and boring. An unending litany of polite addresses, promises of future closeness, and reminders of former closeness with their homelands. But Weiss had been a champ, neither acting out nor even seeming the least bit bored as the Headmasters prattled on about expectations for the Vytal. She even gave a speech to the assembled Headmasters, charming them with her refinement and eloquence. And after the meeting, he'd kept an eye on her, but he didn't need to: Nice Weiss remained in control for the entire reception, where Jaune saw her talk freely with General Ironwood of Atlas.

He was so proud of her, he almost thought he was happier to reward her than she was to receive it! But the way her eyes lit up as Jaune presented her the promised carton of ice cream… things like that made all of this worth it.

He heard the click of the door, and looked up to see as Cinder entered the room. She gave a respectful bow, as she always did, and he rolled his eyes at the gesture, as he always did. "Your Highness," she greeted him, "I hear your meeting went well."

"It did!" he answered cheerfully, "And for the last time, I'd prefer it if I was just 'Jaune.' You and Pyrrha keep stressing me out with all the formality."

Cinder gave him a light smile. "I'm afraid your mother insists otherwise, my Prince" she said, but there was a familiar warmth in her voice.

"You'll be pleased to hear that all seems to be progressing as anticipated, and our counterintelligence operations are outpacing Valean and Atlesian National Intelligence. I was able to speak with Roman about-" Jaune stiffened at that name, a gesture Cinder immediately picked up on. "We've spoken about this, Jaune. It is essential that we make use of every resource we have to ensure the success of your mission."

"It feels like a big risk, if we get caught working with a notorious criminal on what's supposed to be a peaceful visit, and..." then he sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. "And moreso, I feel like we're coming at this all wrong. Like, we're expecting things to go badly, so we're doing things that are going to make it go badly. Why can't we just take a risk and _try _to work for genuine peace?"

Cinder's face turned stony, and Jaune realized that something was wrong. "I would like to believe that we can meet the Kingdoms under good faith, but… The intelligence we have from Roman suggests that we have reason to be concerned that the Schnee family is working with unknown allies to 'retrieve' their daughter."

Jaune felt his breath catch in his throat as his heart thudded in his chest. His fear, his single greatest fear, for this trip had always been what would happen when Weiss saw her birth parents again for the first time. He couldn't cancel it; it was Mother's _insistence _that they meet their former families. But Jaune dearly wished there was some other option. There were four knives in his heart, and the largest of them was named Weiss. He had failed his sisters so many times, but he had failed Weiss the most. He couldn't keep her safe; he couldn't _protect _her when she needed him, and he would never forgive himself for his failure. And now her family would see it and know… they would know how terribly he had failed.

But when they saw what she'd become… when they learned there was no way to "restore" her lost humanity… Would they hurt her? Would they... kill her?

Jaune felt his throat get tight as horror rose in his mind. He couldn't- they wouldn't! The thought of failing Weiss _again_… he couldn't bear it. He looked up to Cinder, "What precautions do we have in place for this?"

Cinder nodded, pulling up relevant documents on her scroll. "Fortunately, of all your sisters, Weiss is likely the safest from most tactics they might consider. But that underscores that our real vulnerability is with you, my Prince. As such, I'm revising-"

No. No, that wouldn't work. It didn't _matter_ if he was attacked, he'd suffered for his sisters before. But he couldn't- he _wouldn't- _allow any harm to come to them. It.. they had suffered so much already... He looked up to Cinder, eyes wild with fear as he begged, "Please… Cinder, whatever it takes, _protect my sisters."_

Cinder gave him a sympathetic look, but her words were strained. "For the last time… _you're_ in far more danger than any of them, and-"

"I don't care!" he shot back, "It's not just physical harm I'm afraid of! They- they have to be protected_, please!_ I know-" he swallowed, hard, "I know what Mother wants from this trip. Don't deny it," he interrupted her objection, "_I know. _And… I'll go along. I'll go along with whatever she wants as long as my sisters are safe."

"My Prince… Jaune," her voice softened, "I have orders from the Queen to prioritize your safety above all. I cannot refuse her, but… if there's a crisis, and you do what I say, and _don't fight me… _I will do _everything _in my power to keep your sisters safe. Physically and emotionally."

"Promise me."

"I promise," she said, with as much sincerity as Jaune could believe she was capable of. Then she laughed, "How did Salem ever raise a child like _you?_"

He gave her a weak smile. Cinder was the one person, outside his sisters, who he truly trusted. Even as she warned him that she wasn't to be trusted, when she reminded him that she was Mother's agent and not his, he knew that Cinder wasn't the master villain she made herself out to be. He knew that she cared for them, perhaps more in secret than openly, but he knew that she wouldn't let them come to harm.

"Well, on a lighter topic, you will be pleased to hear that Emerald made quite an impression on Roman and his assistant."

Jaune groaned, but in good spirits, "Oh, please don't tell me she tried to intimidate him..."

"Not at all," Cinder laughed, "if I had to describe her attitude, I would say 'starstruck.' It was quite… adorable to see how excited she was to meet an actual criminal. She really wanted them to be impressed by her, she actually stole Roman's lighter right out of his pocket!"

"Cinder," he smirked, "really careless of you to tell me that. Now, if I want something from you, I can just threaten to tell Emerald that I heard you call her adorable."

"You wouldn't dare!" she gasped, "If you did, I'll tell her that I want her to accompany you _ring shopping._"

He chuckled. "If you keep encouraging her, we _are_ going to end up engaged, you know."

"Perhaps that's my master plan, your Highness," she reached over and ruffled his hair, "I've always been an ambitious woman, and 'Princess of the Grimm' is quite a title..."

He pushed her hand away and mock-glared at her. But he couldn't deny it, it did help to have her here, especially as she went on to brief him on other matters to anticipate from their visit. She was an excellent majordomo, and he'd be completely lost without her. Jaune had little understanding of why an immortal being needed an heir, but Mother still raised him to one day succeed her. And in the event that he did, somehow, take Mother's place and become King of the Grimm… he certainly hoped he'd still have Cinder's counsel. But even more so, he hoped she would still be his friend.

**Special thanks to Renarde for assistance and feedback with the story.**


	2. A Parent's Greatest Fear

If he was given the chance, by some miracle of the gods, to do it all over again, there were many, many things Jacques Schnee would have done differently. He would have known how trivial money truly was, he would not have squandered so much time on business at the neglect of his family, he would _never _have let that monster take his child...

And he would have cherished his wife. He would have _never_ taken her for granted if he knew how little time he'd have with her, and how dearly, how deeply he would miss her once she was gone.

He unstopped his flask and took a drink. He needed to fortify himself for what was coming next. For fifteen years, he'd planned for this day and he could not allow himself to lose his convictions now. The liquor burned on his throat, acrid and tasting like nothing other than its ethanol content. That was good, though; he wanted the burn. He only drank cheap liquor now, nothing smooth, nothing pleasant. That, he only drank socially, to keep up appearances. This rotgut that burned in his throat right now was for focusing his mind.

The footsteps outside the hotel room door told him he needed to close his flask and conceal it. She had scolded him enough about his drinking, and he didn't want to worry her. He pocketed his flask and looked up as his daughter entered the room.

Winter. She looked so much like her mother. She had Willow's grace, and, though very few had the privilege to see it, she had her gentle kindness as well. And she took all of Jacques's best traits, in her drive, her focus, her dedication, without any of the poison that had brought him to such ruin. The fastest-promoted Specialist in Atlas's history, and the most caring daughter a father could ask for. He loved his children dearly, so dearly, and he was so, so very close to having them back.

"Father," she chided, "you should have sent a proxy. We cannot afford-"

"I needed to hear it from family," he shot back, his grief and worry barely contained, "I couldn't afford to wait another moment to learn: _how is she?_"

Winter paused and Jacques's heart stopped. He had, for fifteen years, rehearsed for every imaginable horror and atrocity he might learn, but now, staring it in the face, he realized how unprepared he was. She looked at him gravely. "Father… you need to sit down."

"What did they do to-"

"You need," she insisted, "to sit down."

Horror sapping the strength from his legs, he collapsed into his chair. He looked up at his daughter, pleading, "What… what has she done to my baby girl?"

"General Ironwood spoke to… to Weiss as part of a delegation of Academy headmasters. You'll see his report with the rest of the families, but she… was able to speak well and clearly and seemed… she seemed..."

"Tell me! Just tell me!" he begged, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the cushioned arm rests, "Whatever you're not telling me, just _tell me!_"

But she couldn't speak. Instead, she wordlessly handed him an envelope that Jacques snatched up and tore open. Photos. He grabbed one and looked… and so dearly wished that he hadn't.

It was… there was so much of Willow in her that he couldn't deny that she was his daughter, that she was his _Weiss, _but… he was not looking at anything human. Her skin was as chalk white as the devil that took them, and veins of Grimmstuff crossed it—her eyes, sunken pits with a faint blue light inside them. Even her picture… just looking at it triggered the reflexive fear and revulsion his instincts used to warn him of Grimm. Fear and revulsion at his own _daughter!_

He had no words. His voice was lost, just a great, keening wail that seemed to emanate from deep within him as his grief took sound. His hands shook uncontrollably, the photos dropped to the floor in a scattered pile, and then they darted to his jacket pocket where he snatched up his flask and quickly downed the rest of the liquor. But all he could think as it burned his throat was the thought of that dark Grimm corruption, mutilating his child.

What- What had that _monster_ done to his little girl?

He had thought that death would be the worst fate, but death, at least, would put her out of her misery, would have put an end to her fear and pain, and leave only his grief. But this… she wasn't human anymore. Was she still alive? Or was her soul caged in a monstrous body, puppeted by the Witch-Queen's cruel caprice?

And worse was the hopelessness. Before he looked, there was always another option, they had planned a hundred ways to get his Weiss back. Ways to fake her death, or to frame her abduction on another party, or to facilitate a defection. In the worst case, he would _end _the treaty that bound them, letting Atlas go to war just to protect his daughter. But now… there was no hope. No return. She was, forever, lost. Anything he could have done, _should _have done, was now 15 years too late. 15 years of a foolish hope that he would one day see his child again.

Winter was holding him. He hadn't realized that she was now gripping him in her arms, telling him to calm down as he shook to pieces with his sobs. "Father- Dad! It's alright, it's alright."

"No," he moaned, "No, it will _never_ be-"

"She's still herself. General Ironwood spoke with her and she- he said she-" her voice caught in her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her own tears at bay, "he said she sounded like he was speaking to mom."

At that, Jacques' eyes suddenly cleared as a rush of hope surged into him. "L-like your mother? Like Willow?" Maybe… maybe some spark still remained? Maybe there was still a possibility, a mad possibility… but he'd been living on such possibilities for a decade and a half.

"There's still a chance. That she's… still our Weiss. There is a… I have taken the liberty to contact an individual who specializes in this question, a doctor of Grimm research. He's… unorthodox, but he might be able to help. With your permission-"

"Do what you have to," was all he could say as he sank further into his chair. Caught between shattering hope and blinding despair, he felt like he was being pulled apart, but he needed to be strong. To be strong for Winter, for Whitley, for Willow, for… for Weiss.

Winter crouched next to him, gently holding his arm. "I can go on your behalf to the meeting tomorrow. They would… understand if you were too emotional, and I would surely be allowed to-"

"No," he stopped her, "No, I will go." He had never felt more exhausted in his life. "We… we see what we can… we cannot… make a decision, not yet. But Winter..."

"Whatever you need, father, I can do it."

"No, I- Thank you. I just… thank you, Winter. You're a better daughter than an old man like me could ever deserve."

* * *

Summer never forgave herself for what she did 15 years ago. And she was more aware of her guilt today than she'd ever been before.

As she escorted Oliver and Helene Arc into the meeting room, she did everything she could not to look them in the eye. She knew they recognized her. That they remembered her, just as she remembered them, that moment inescapably burned into their minds when she took their child away from them and handed him over to a monster.

Who turned their precious little boy into a monster like her.

After finishing her work for the delegation's arrival, Summer had rushed to her daughters' dorm room at Beacon, where she flung her arms around the both of them and held them so close and wept so loudly that not even Yang protested the attention. They didn't ask what was the cause of her grief, though she figured it was easy enough to puzzle out. But she couldn't stop thinking of that family, the family she was now walking with, and the dismayed, hopeless, horrified look upon their faces, fifteen years ago.

She couldn't imagine the grief of the parents who were about to learn what had happened to the claimed. What had happened to their children.

A touch, suddenly, across her shoulder triggered her combat reflexes, but, she realized, it was Mrs. Arc, gently resting a hand on her. "We don't blame you," she said, her voice rough with emotion, and Summer had nothing to say in return, just struggling to keep her own emotions in check. "We've never blamed you. And you don't have to blame yourself."

"I..." her voice was hoarse and wordless, "I… thank you."

She felt a profound gratitude for their compassion, but she had nothing she could possibly say. So she led them to their seats and took her place in the rear of the room, with the rest of the security detail. She moved to a spot beside an Atlesian Specialist, but before she could introduce herself, a furious voice rang across the room.

"How _dare _you show your face here!"

Summer whirled to see Alcestis Nikos, looking every inch the tournament champion in spite of her years of retirement, as she stood and pointed a furiously trembling finger at the couple who had just entered.

King Hansa of Vacuo and his wife, Queen Musa. They wore stately robes and looks of shocked affrontement. "We… I won't stand for this accusation!" the King shouted back, "We have lost a child to this monster, the same as all of you. There is no evidence for-"

"You think that we don't know what you did? Do you think you could keep it _secret?_ _We_ all lost a child," Alcestis hissed, "while _you _kidnapped an _orphan!_"

"She was our _daughter!_" the Queen wailed, "How could we-"

"Do you think," Admetus Nikos roared back, cutting her off, "I did not _agonize _over-"

"People, please!" the commanding voice of General Ironwood cut through the din, "This is a matter of global importance!" He looked across the room, challenging anyone to speak up against him. Even Admetus seemed to shrink before the General's commanding presence. "This… has been a great and tragic circumstance. I cannot imagine the depths of your grief. But there are untold _millions _of people who are alive today because of our agreement, and it is our _paramount_ cause to ensure that this state of things continues." Summer had to agree with that. There were still Grimm since the Separation, but their numbers were down considerably, and she was very aware that far, far fewer Huntsmen lost their lives for the cause compared to when she first got started. "Your loss has been _tragic, _we know that, but we cannot _measure _the lives we have saved in this agreement."

"And some of us," Admetus growled, "sacrificed _nothing _of our-"

Ironwood cut him off. "We cannot afford to give Salem," the very name seemed to draw all the air from the room, "cause to think she's been cheated. Under no circumstances—under _no _circumstances—is anyone here to risk the strength of the pact. Everyone here has sworn an oath to uphold the peace we created fifteen years ago, and I, along with the Committee and the Councils of Remnant, _will_ hold you all to that oath. Am I clear?" But there were only faint murmurs from the audience. He glared. "Am I _clear?_"

The assembled families broke into admissions of agreement. It was not the way Summer would have hoped for this meeting to begin, but, knowing what they were about to learn, it was probably for the best to open with a call for order. As Ironwood started with the boring information, reading a series of identical statements from each Kingdom's Council (because, of course, they _needed_ to make a point of stating their support for these families) and going over the itinerary and ground rules, Summer slumped against the wall, finally taking the time to take a breath.

"Heard you were on the welcome wagon."

She turned to the Specialist besides her and whispered back, "That information is classified."

He chuckled. "Everything about this clusterfuck is classified. That's why everything's made its way to the rumor mill."

"There's that elite Atlesian professionalism I hear so much about..."

But he didn't seem offended by the jab. "Ha, fair enough. Clover Ebi," he extended his arm for a handshake, which Summer gingerly took, "Take it you're Summer Rose? Met your associate, Branwen, last night."

Summer's vision clouded with anger. "He didn't-"

"Didn't say anything good, no. He's a pro, I'll give him that. But..." and then he gave her a teasing smile, "he couldn't resist bragging about how skilled his team was, especially you."

Summer groaned. Qrow could be a bit of a fanboy when it came to Team STRQ. Or, well, her and Tai, considering Qrow's self-esteem ranged from "self-deprecating" to "depressed." And the less said about Raven, the better. "Well, I'm glad to hear my legend continues to grow. But I'm not saying anything more on the matter."

"Fair enough, fair enough. I will say, rather like the man—wouldn't mind if you could do me a favor and put in a good word for me?" She rolled her eyes at that, but she had to admit, this Specialist Ebi's easy charm was working on her. Probably barking up the wrong tree with Qrow, though: Qrow liked morose, liked cynical, and, probably relevant judging from the little rabbit's foot dangling off his uniform, Qrow did not like superstitious, especially when it came to luck. But, honestly, it had been too long since Qrow had had a date, and he could really use something good in his life.

"I'll let him know," then she gave him a sly smile, "that there's an Atlesian agent poking around about him, and that he needs to keep his guard up."

He chuckled. He certainly was good looking, though that made him seem more like the upbeat pretty boy type that _Raven_ was into, more than her brother. "But on business… I heard from another source," he dropped his voice even lower, "that Oz has a Maiden working with you for security."

She stiffened. Openly discussing the Maidens was a risky proposition, even with those in the know. "What, did Fria tell you?"

"You know about Fria?" he chuckled, "How unfair, you get to know about Winter while I don't get to know anything about Fall."

"Better if we keep it that way," Summer growled.

And Ebi nodded, apparently getting the hint to back off. "Alright then. But I'll tell you what I'm seeing—none of the Councils are communicating, Mistral's a mess, Vacuo's a write off, and it all adds up to going to hell in a hurry. In a worst case scenario, it's going to come to Ozpin and Ironwood, and, from what I know of the hierarchy, that means you and me."

"So you expect we'll be working together closely."

Ebi gave a grim nod. "I like it when things just work out on their own, but… I don't think any of us are gonna get lucky with this mess."

He wasn't wrong. The tension between the families was teetering on the edge of explosive, but it had nothing on the tension between the Kingdoms. Fifteen years ago, she'd hoped that, between the Separation's reduction in Grimm giving them some breathing room and the revelation of Salem's existence giving the world common enemy, this would be a tragic beginning to a new era of peace and cooperation. But between the militant factions, the appeasement factions, the swings between hopelessness, desperate paranoia, and nationalism… It was a miracle that the world could pull together well enough to coordinate this. Though she suspected that Ozpin, and her eyes went to where the, even still, mysterious headmaster was seated besides Ironwood, had a major role in that.

She looked back to Ebi. Ozpin believed in cooperation. Moreso, Ozpin believed in taking risks. "Let's have a conversation tonight. We'll introduce our teams to each other and… you can get a chance to talk more with Qrow." He grinned at that. "But I think we're coming up on the point where we're on riot control, so..."

And she looked back to Ironwood, who was right now warning the families that what they were about to see was of the highest level of secrecy until such time as the Councils authorized the information to go public. And then he clicked a button, and the families saw for the first time what their children had become.

* * *

If there was one thing they all knew how to do, it was enduring boredom. In the castle in the Grimmlands, even when they weren't being "disciplined," there was nobody around for hundreds of miles that any of them could converse with. Anyone other than Weiss could converse with, at least. They were all used to being stuck indoors for weeks at a time, waiting for Mother to change her mind on which halls were forbidden to them or for her inscrutable reasoning to finally justify letting them stretch their legs outside.

So as much as they got on each others' nerves—and Emerald felt that her siblings had a particular drive to pick on _her—_she'd grown up playing with Blake and Weiss and Pyrrha and Jaune as much as quarreling with them. When they were very young they used to be much busier, nervously exploring the castle or scrounging for food, and sometimes even still, when she was feeling nostalgic or stressed, Emerald would go and hunt vermin to calm her nerves. But even after Jaune had slowly convinced Mother to expand their privileges, they kept up these behaviors as little games, ways to fill time and hone their skills.

Right now, they were playing a game where Weiss would glyph summon tiny illusory Grimm and the girls were competing to pick them off with needles. It was a game they'd spent years playing, so, by now, their trick shots were getting fairly elaborate, demonstrated as Blake leapt from shadow to shadow, a spray of silver needles flying out with each pass, leaving the tiny Beowulves and Nevermores pinned to the table like butterflies for display.

"You missed one," Emerald noted, pointing to a miniature Goliath, basically a black fuzzball with two pointy white tusks, trundling its way across the table.

"Oh, did I?" Blake asked with a cocky smile… and then a needle dropped from the ceiling, spearing the pseudo-Grimm right through its back.

"An excellent shot," Pyrrha said, admiringly, "I hadn't even noticed you'd left a needle hanging in the ceiling."

Blake shrugged. "What can I say… I've got skills. So, who's following that up?"

Emerald confidently stood up, excited to try out a new technique she'd been working on, but it was at that point that Jaune came back into the room. Glancing at the table strewn with needles he cocked an eye at them. "Bored already?" he asked.

"No," Blake replied, "we're-"

"Super, SUPER bored!" Weiss loudly complained. "What am I supposed to do all day when I'm not even supposed to use magic?"

Emerald was sympathetic—they all were, really, because they were all _so_ bored—but it was Pyrrha who, surprisingly, backed her up. "This has been… a trial, my Prince." She exhaled, and Emerald realized she had been sharpening a sword from her armory on her arm plates, something she only did when she was really on edge. "I hope we won't be cooped up so much longer?"

Jaune quickly glanced around the room, looking to each of them in turn to see what their attitude was. He did it every time he needed to make a decision, but Emerald always appreciated it. Jaune wasn't a tyrant; he always paid attention to what they were thinking, even when Emerald didn't feel like she knew what to do. And that meant the world to her.

Jaune and Ms. Fall were the only two people who made Emerald feel _noticed._ Yes, she was the Shrike: it was her job not to be seen, to be the lurker in the shadows, to only be known by a trail of blood, but that was such a lonely existence, and she felt so small next to her sisters. She wasn't as strong as Pyrrha, as smart as Blake, as powerful as Weiss… but Jaune and Ms. Fall made her feel like she was still important, like she still contributed. She couldn't wait until they were married, and then, as Ms. Fall's #2—actually, _Mrs. Jaune's _#2—she'd finally have a place for herself in her family.

Jaune cracked a weak smile. "Well, I can't say I have great news on that front, but, at least, Ms. Fall and I were able to keep things on schedule despite the… abruptness of our appearance." Of course they did. Ms. Fall could do _anything. _"So Parents Night will still be happening tomorrow, and, if all goes well, we're actually set to attend some classes at Beacon!"

She could feel the excitement pass through the room. More for the classes: they were all quite eager to demonstrate their skills against actual Huntsmen, even if they were only students. Parents Night was… Emerald was sure it would go fine.

Jaune continued. "Tomorrow, we'll be meeting with our former families. I expect this may be a difficult and emotional experience-"

"Why?"

Emerald looked over to Weiss incredulously, and then realized… yeah, Weiss probably didn't understand what any of them were experiencing. Least of all what Emerald was experiencing, thinking of seeing… of seeing the Royal Family, her… original parents. Weiss was rarely all there, and probably didn't remember having any family other than them.

Blake put a comforting arm on Weiss's shoulder. "Sometimes… we remember what things were like before… and we feel sad."

"Oh." Weiss looked down, "I get sad sometimes."

"I know you do," Blake pulled her into a hug, "We all do."

It was… nice to see Blake like this. Sure, she could be bossy and annoying, but Blake really cared for them. She was the Hawk, not just aware of threats against them, but also, she was always the first one to know when one of them was feeling down, and would give quiet reassurance. She really did have good advice, a lot of the time. And she agreed with Emerald that Ms. Fall and Jaune were totally into each other and just hiding it to keep Pyrrha from getting jealous.

With Weiss mollified, Jaune kept the meeting going. "Order is going to be Blake and Pyrrha meeting the Belladonna and Nikos families first. Then Emerald and I will meet the Vacuos and the Arcs, and finally, Weiss, you will meet with the Schnee family."

"Do I hafta be Nice Weiss?"

Jaune looked pained as he debated his options. It was easy enough to see it was a lose-lose situation. On the one hand, Nice Weiss would have much lower risk of catastrophe. On the other, nobody wanted to tell Weiss she had to wear her persona while meeting her family. Emerald would have told her to, but that was because she believed in efficiency. "It… would help. But you can… do whatever you need to do, Weiss."

"Okay..." she nodded, "And I'm not spose'ta break anyone tomorrow," she recited, "or for the rest of the trip."

"I think that goes for all of us," Blake added, to which Pyrrha snorted her disapproval, and even Emerald had to smile at that. She and Pyrrha exchanged smiles, and Emerald felt like it was a sign that things were cool between them after their tiff last night. Which was good. Everything was really tense right now with the family stuff and all the rumors and Emerald really just needed things to go well. And Pyrrha not being mad at her was a really good thing.

Especially with… tomorrow. She squeezed her eyes shut, like she always did when she was worried. A childhood tic, she'd spent a few weeks convinced that if she just didn't see anything, it couldn't see her either and so… it had taken all of her siblings to make her feel safe enough to open her eyes again. But she still, sometimes, reverted to her childhood fears when she was stressed. Ms. Fall told her that she didn't have to be afraid, that she was the Shrike, and far scarier than anything she might ever go up against, so she opened her eyes back up and puffed out her chest. Jaune was going over the itinerary, but she'd already seen it—she'd been there when Ms. Fall prepared it, and she had been very helpful. Ms. Fall had told her so herself. She could be brave. She'd see her… see the King and Queen tomorrow. And she'd recognize them and they'd recognize her because… because she was their daughter.

She had to be.

**Stunned to get over a hundred follows for the first chapter—thank you for all your kind words, support, and readership! And I'm excited to go further into this story and explore more of how characters have been changed by this setting. Jacques Schnee realized too late how meaningless the pursuit of money was, Summer Rose survived and is a total badass on top of being Supermom, and Emerald is pretty different from her canon characterization, but I think she might be my favorite of the children to write (though it's a tough contest!).  
**

**Thanks to Renarde and DanishVulkanHestan for feedback on the chapter. Talking with Danish about his work "Sol Invictus" was actually part of how the tone of this story developed, so consider checking it out!**


	3. Parents Night

**CW: Traumatic flashback, child abuse.**

Blake was _good _at her job.

But that was no surprise. She'd been trained since childhood to be a master manipulator, and granted powers beyond human or Faunus reckoning to make her the perfect spy and deceiver. She was the Hawk, but she really considered herself the Songbird. And the Belladonnas made an _excellent _first demonstration of why. She had cried, wept, rejoiced; she had held them, and she heard them cry, felt their bodies shake with emotion as they were reunited with "their" daughter. And they spoke, their voices breaking with relief and joy at their reunion, Kali and Ghira's eyes sparkling in wonder to see what they never thought they'd see, to hear what they'd never thought they'd hear, to be asked about the Faunus cause by the child they had thought lost.

In short: she had those fools eating out of the palm of her hand.

But really, she expected very little from her "parents." Analysis of their movement's history showed that, while capable organizers and demagogues and, she would even grant, skilled leaders, their optimism blinded them to the ways in which sociopolitical realities of Human-Faunus relations inevitably frustrated their aims. There would never be a granted peace from the humans, and, as such, it was little wonder that the movement quickly fragmented between her parents, as the current leadership of Menagerie, and the radical sect under Sienna Khan. Blake rather hoped that Ms. Fall would be able to arrange a meeting with Khan during this trip, but even more so, Blake felt she'd already spotted the weak link in their organization: the up and coming radical, Adam Taurus. She'd never been able to actually make use of her training in the art of seduction, something she was quite eager to try out, and he seemed like a perfect target to subvert for their cause, and then discarded once no longer useful.

Perhaps she'd even give him over to Weiss once she was finished with him. She'd enjoy that.

But Taurus's growing strength and, more importantly, the growing support for him and his methods within the White Fang exemplified why their strategy could never bring peace between the humans and the Faunus. No, the only option for peace came from a strong ruler, someone who would bring _order_, and with it, justice. And Jaune was much, much more suitable for the task than anyone else, even Mother, especially with her counsel backing him up. And Mother understood this—she had told Blake that she was her favorite daughter for her subtle deviousness, her willingness to do whatever it took for her brother's gain.

It was easy to imagine; Jaune would make a magnificent King. Not only of the Grimm, but of all Remnant. His kind heart with her knowledgeable counsel, alongside all of her sisters serving together in the roles that they were born to fulfill… they would bring the world into a new era. But more importantly, Jaune would finally _realize_ what he meant to her. She loved her brother, and she loved him dearly. Not like Pyrrha, who desired the baser, the more bodily, more... _carnal_ aspects of love. No, what Blake wanted was more ephemeral, more personal. Purer She wanted to be the dearest and most important woman in his life. She would counsel him on matters of state and politics, but also on personal matters, even love. Especially love. She had no interest in being his Queen, indeed, she personally thought that Pyrrha should be given the role. Especially over some political marriage that would bring some unnecessary outsider into their lives. But Blake knew that sharing his bed was not the only way to be the dearest in his heart.

She felt confident as she was escorted back to where her siblings were by a pair of Faunus Huntresses. She idly debated getting a start on winning them over and subverting them to her side, but she figured she was mostly just coasting on the adrenaline of leading the leaders of Menagerie around by the nose for over an hour, and that she shouldn't risk overreaching. Besides, she was excited to tell everyone, especially Jaune, how well it had gone.

But she was too late, her success with her former family meant that her visit had gone long, and Jaune had already left to meet with his family. A shame. But from the look of things, Pyrrha was completely freaked out, and that, at least, could be pretty funny.

"Hey Pyr," she asked, heading over to where her sister was fidgeting with a long knife with a bone-white blade. Not a good sign—not only to see Pyrrha so undisciplined, but using the knife Mother gifted her before they left. It was a potent weapon, resplendent with dark magic, which Blake knew was a calming presence in their lives, but she also knew that it unsettled Jaune. And Pyrrha wouldn't turn to things she knew Jaune didn't like unless she was in a very bad place. She gingerly stepped past where Weiss was focused on a coloring book (likely filched by Emerald while she was in town—and it had frog pictures, which was a very nice gesture), and softly asked, "How'd things go with the Nikos family?"

"Good! I- I mean, not- I mean- oh, Blake," she wailed, "I did it all wrong!"

"What happened?"

"I- they requested that I join them in a spar tomorrow, and, I-"

Blake's eyes went wide. Pyrrha was the Eagle, the greatest warrior Mother had ever seen, not only with the spear and sword (and axe and knife and mace and hammer and fist and...), she could kill with a _glance_, if she was angry enough. She absolutely was not someone a normal human could hope to fight against, no matter what their tournament record might look like. And if they were even a fraction as unrelenting and willful fighters as their daughter... "Oh, Pyrrha, you'd _kill _them!"

"I know! I just- I panicked and agreed! Do I- should I kill them? I don't- I need Jaune, I need Jaune to tell me-"

"Pyrrha, Pyrrha, breathe," gods, she always got like this when she was faced with a problem that couldn't be solved by physically dismantling it, "It's alright, Jaune will be back in a bit, but you just… you don't have to kill them. And you shouldn't." Fortunately, she'd already had a chance to practice this advice, from every time she'd had to talk Weiss out of killing someone, "Remember, you can always just… breathe, just breathe. Take a moment, and breathe. Okay?"

"O-okay." As she took a few deep breaths, Blake had to admit that, even with the earlier humor she saw in it, it was always a little unnerving to see Pyrrha flustered. She was the Prince's Sword (and thankfully so—Jaune was atrocious with a blade of his own), and her iron strength was something Blake, deep down, thought of as something she could always count on.

"And I know you can defeat people without killing them. Just… injure them. Or just imagine that you have to take them as war trophies for our brother!" _That_ argument did seem to get through. "Or I can have Ms. Fall call Professor Callows, if you really need to take someone's limbs off," she suggested.

"No," she shook her head, "I just… it was _strange, _Blake, they looked at me like..." she let the thought trail off. "They told me to uphold my honor and to protect Jaune, and I… I don't know, Blake, I don't know!"

"But… that's good, right? That's your whole _thing,_ isn't it?" Pyrrha's… what would be the polite term for it, her "devotion" to their brother was… intense. She was protective of all of them, but she was a living weapon for Jaune's protection. The intensity with which she practiced her skills was the reason that Professor Callows was more machine than man. Not that he complained (though complaint would honestly be better than… the way he normally was).

"I'm just..." she took a deep lungful of air, little tongues of black flame licking off her armor, and a faint, but tell-tale, tremor crossed her shoulders, suggesting that her tail was feeling restless, "I thought they wouldn't understand. I thought I'd have to contest with them, to defend Jaune against them and I… I didn't have to."

Ah. Now _that_ made perfect sense.

"You're looking for a fight, Pyr. You'd been psyching yourself up to finally get your chance to righteously defend us, and now you don't know what to do with that energy," she explained, and Pyrrha's eyes opened with realization from her explanation. "Don't worry: I've worked it out with Jaune, and… well, I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you this," and she dropped her voice low as Pyrrha eagerly leaned in, "we're supposed to observe some classes at Beacon—and the very first one we'll be attending? It's a combat class. Nothing but direct, one-on-one fights. I'm sure you'll enjoy _humiliating _the best fighters Remnant has to offer. Just... make sure to keep it to non-lethal injuries," she added with a teasing lilt.

Pyrrha leaned back, her eyes unfocusing as, judging from her smile, she was going to her happy place. Picturing herself presenting their defeated enemies in chains before her Prince. It was the chains that, in Blake's mind, took it to a weird place. Well, it was the _everything _that was making it weird, but Pyrrha had drunk as deep of the Pool of Darkness as Weiss had, maybe even more so, and, in spite of her appearance of stability, she was… what was the polite term for it?

Lacking one, she left Pyrrha to her fantasies, just in time to realize that Emerald was also in the room. "Oh, hey Em, shouldn't you be-" but from the look on her face, she realized that Emerald was clearly aware where she should be. It seemed she was deliberately delaying seeing the Vacuos as she nervously paced the length of the room. "What's wrong?" she asked.

The look on Emerald's face was one of pure, hopeless _desperation _and it immediately sent Blake to her sister's side. "I- I am their daughter, I- I have to be-" she wrung her hands nervously, "that file, it was… it couldn't be true, it had to be… I'm their daughter, right?"

And Blake felt the familiar voice, the raging force of the Darkness surging in her mind, reminding her that they had no parents, nothing other than Mother, but… she quieted it. Emerald needed her, and the superseded all else. "You are," she reassured her, "I know you are. Those reports… they're only petty rumors. Ms. Fall would know if one of the families tried to trick Mother. She wouldn't allow someone to try to fool the Queen of the Grimm."

"Y-yeah, she would," she sniffed, "she would have torn them apart for treachery!"

And Blake smiled to see her sister regain some of her composure. "You're strong, Emerald, you are a Daughter of Salem, and no one can ever take that away from you."

"Th-thanks, Blake," she said, as Blake gave her a reassuring hug.

"You ready to go out there?"

She grinned. "Yeah. Gonna win us a Kingdom!"

* * *

Cinder was with him.

He reminded himself that Cinder was with him, and she'd stay with him for the whole meeting.

Jaune had asked her to accompany him, he'd asked her to accompany _all _of them, but Cinder had told him it was unwise. He'd tried to insist that she accompany Weiss, but she refused, citing that anything that could be seen as antagonizing Jacques Schnee would risk serious danger in the future. But she couldn't refuse a direct request from the Prince of the Grimm to accompany him at this moment.

And he was glad for it. He knew he could easily have asked Pyrrha to accompany him, but, in facing his former family, Jaune knew this would be a moment of weakness, and a moment that was his to bear. He couldn't put that weight on his sister's shoulders. But Cinder would help.

He had spent the entire day calculating and recalculating his choices. Even as he was getting briefed by Cinder, or giving his sisters some last-minute reassurances. That, at least, helped take his mind off his own anxieties. Blake was confident, Weiss, oblivious, but Pyrrha and Emerald were both trying their best to keep him from worrying, and that always worried him more than anything. They were strong women, he was proud of them, but… when he looked at them, he still saw them as children. The way they were in the bad times.

"It is unbecoming of a Prince," Cinder softly whispered to him, "to be so unmanned by meeting a semi-retired Huntsman and an _advice columnist._" He knew she was trying to spur his ego, but the reference to how quotidian his… former parents were, that only made the moment stranger.

"I… hadn't realized there would be so many of them." Looking around the room, the circle of _ten_ additional, empty armchairs… at least, he thought, his former parents weren't lonely without him. He wondered where they'd all sit. His former mother and father would surely be near him, but they'd probably want to be next to each other. And his… sister-in-law? She'd probably be seated furthest from him—but that would be _across _from him, so…

There was no point worrying about it. They were already here, and Jaune stood with Cinder as a guard (Mrs. Rose, he believed her name was—a Silver-Eyed Warrior, but, unlike how Mother had described her kin, she seemed more… stressed than murderous) opened the door, and…

Well, they were very blonde. There was definitely a family resemblance that… certainly startled him. He knew he was by far the most human of his siblings—Emerald could appear human, but only if she focused on not letting her skin writhe or her hands shift. All Jaune had to do was close his eyes, and he'd look… he'd blend right in with this family.

And they were… they were happy. Happy to… see him. He had only a fraction of the Darkness within him that his sisters had, but he had enough to sense emotions and there was an ecstatic and un-hesitating _joy _that surged against it like a lash. He almost stepped backwards in a reel, so unfamiliar it was to feel… this.

"Jaune!" boomed the one man, tall and bearded, and with a voice that suggested leadership experience, as he threw his arms around the stunned Prince. The hug was tight and sudden and, frankly, a little crushing, but moreso, it was like he'd just been… staying overseas. Not that he'd been taken into the Darkness itself.

"Oh, you've grown so _tall!_" a woman (his mother?) added, pulling at his cheek. "Oh, he looks just like his Uncle Herbert—right, Oliver? He could be the _spitting image _of your brother!"

"And your mother's eyes!" he replied with a booming laugh as his wife gave him a playful swat. Jaune looked to Cinder in stunned disbelief, but all her face suggested was an equally stunned disbelief.

But then he realized that this bear hug was really making it difficult to breathe. "I- I can't- _ahhh,_" he gasped as the man finally released him.

"Girls!" he gestured, "At long last, I can say," and he took a moment to blink the tears from his eyes, "that I'd like you to meet your brother, Jaune!"

There was a sea of smiling faces all around him, and, though it was _truly _alien, it felt… somehow, right? "I… I thank you for your kind welcome. It has been… a long time since we met, but I am… I am Prince Jaune of the Grimmlands, and-"

"Wait, you're a _Prince?_" the one non-blonde (presumably the sister-in-law) gawked, "Damn, Saph," she muttered, "Is it too late to switch which Arc I married?"

"Terra!" her companion (Saph?) laughed, "I told you, if you couldn't be _normal, _you'd have to wait outside!"

"Well, either way, welcome to the family," and then she extended her hand, which Jaune delicately took and, on some _stupid, idiot _impulse, probably inspired by Blake's _supid, idiot books, _kissed it. Terra's eyes went wide. "Oh damn," she mouthed, "you really _are _a Prince. Oh, wow."

"Oh, he's such a gentleman!" Mrs. Arc nearly squealed in joy. "Oh, my little boy's all grown up, and, _oh!_" she gasped, looking at Cinder, "Are you- do you already have a girlfriend? Oh, she's _quite _the-"

"I am _not,_" Cinder indignantly protested, perhaps a little more forcefully than Jaune would have liked, "I am the Queen's majordomo and _assisting _the Prince, _at his request,_ on this occasion." There was more ice in her voice than Jaune had ever heard before, and while he knew that she had no interest in him, in spite of Emerald's best efforts to… facilitate their relationship, it did sting a little to get shot down _this _hard. Especially in front of his former family.

But Mrs. Arc was wholly undeterred. "Well, is he looking? Because the Jaegers—they're Atlesian, but not _that_ Atlesian, they can actually cook—have a daughter who I'm _sure-_"

"Helene," Mr. Arc quietly pulled his wife back, "you're _embarrassing _the poor boy."

"Well, I missed out on a decade and a half of opportunities!" she huffed, and Jaune heard Mrs. Rose, standing by the door, suppress a snicker at that, "So I have the _right _to make up for lost time, I don't care what that General and this 'Queen of the Grimm' might say, I am a _mother_ and I, _oh,_" a tear ran down her cheek as she embraced him, "Oh, I never, never thought I'd see this day, that I'd see my baby boy again!"

"Mom..." Saph said, resting a comforting hand on her mother's arm, "let's all take a seat. I'm sure we have a lot of catching up to do."

That they did. Jaune, in his long moments of dreading the unknown, of what would happen when he met his biological family again for the first time in years, had wondered if it would be awkward. Or emotional. Or painful. Or if they'd be horrified by his appearance or the distance that had formed between them, now that Mother and his sisters were his real family now. But what he hadn't prepared for, though, was how easy it was to converse with them.

Especially with how _many _there were. He really did have seven biological sisters, six older, one younger, but even the eldest was only a child when he was taken. They had all… they had all lived such lives in his absence. Saph, evidently short for Saphron, was married now, with a son, and living in Mistral. One of the Arc sisters wrote, under a pen name, books he _knew _Blake had read, specifically the books that… made her give him weird looks afterwards. And another was engaged to be married to a local farmer, and they were quick to fill him in with all the plans—it was going to be quite the event. They'd even told him he was invited, though they'd been forbidden from personally bringing him his invitation, since it had been confiscated by the security team.

Mrs. Arc was aghast that he hadn't had a beignet since he'd been claimed, something Jaune hadn't even realized he'd been missing, but from the looks on the Arcs' faces, it was apparently a considerable loss. And not the only one: they asked him if he celebrated holidays he'd never heard of, or if he still remembered bits and pieces of his former homeland. Invariably, he hadn't, and Jaune realized that there was a great piece of him that _ought _to be, and yet… wasn't.

But he told them about the Grimmlands, about his sisters, and about his duties as a Prince. Not that there were many, but they all seemed quite impressed when he told them about how he'd insisted to Mother that this trip be a diplomatic mission, and that he be given authority to let him speak on her behalf to the Kingdoms (though he knew Cinder was less-than-pleased with this grant). And at that, Mr. Arc looked at him, beamed and said, "Well, it sounds to me like you're doing the Arc name proud."

It was like a jolt of electricity through his nerves to hear that. He could tell on everyone's faces that he must have shown his alarm, and, from their worried looks, he knew he needed to make an explanation. "I... am sorry," he answered, dolorously, "But… we gave up all our ties to family when we were claimed. I am... of the Grimm, now, not an Arc."

"But-" Mrs. Arc protested, "You're our son! Our child! You are an Arc!"

"I… cannot," he choked out. "Even if I could, I promised them, I promised my sisters, my..." he didn't have a word for them, not one that wouldn't offend the seven women in the room, so he just moved on, "I promised that they were my family, and that I would never, I could _never_ leave them behind."

"You gave them your word?" Mr. Arc asked, stroking his chin.

Jaune turned, surprised at the interjection. "I- I did."

"Well then, you certainly can't go back on _that,_" and he smiled, faintly, but a smile that triggered something… warm in a far corner of Jaune's heart, "And perhaps… there's something of us still alive within you. Perhaps you're more Arc than you realize. I won't push it, but… make us proud, son."

"But I-" and he realized, without needing Blake's advice, that this was not a point to argue. "I will," he promised, then gave his own smile, "I give you my word."

Mr. Arc turned quiet at that, and sat back and nodded. "That's… all we can ask for." And he smiled at him, a warm smile with an emotion… something indescribable to Jaune. He turned to his wife. "Helene? I think we have something for Jaune."

Mrs. Arc seemed to be confused for a moment, then realized what he was referring to. She reached into her jacket and pulled out… a stuffed bunny. "I… this was yours," Mrs. Arc said, passing the toy to him, "When you were a child, you used to take it with you everywhere, but you couldn't… we weren't allowed to send you with anything."

Cinder raised her hand in alarm, "I was told that _nothing _other than approved-"

"It's just his childhood toy," Mr. Arc replied, "We wanted to make sure he got it back."

He looked at the stuffed rabbit in his hands. It inspired no memory in him—there was nothing familiar about it, in the least, except… he realized his hand was trembling.

He could hear Cinder. She had leapt up and was demanding something about contraband, the Arcs were… something in protest. But their words were so far away, it felt like a memory, not the present. Because he wasn't in the meeting room. He wasn't in Vale. He wasn't with the Arcs, not anymore.

He was in The Hole.

In the Dark Place, where he was… where were his sisters? Were they safe? Jaune struggled to breathe, struggled to remember what he was being punished for. Time lost meaning in The Hole, where there was no light, no schedule, no visitors. What had he done? Why was Mother angry, _when would she let him leave?_ He clutched himself, his fingers reminding him that he was still real, still existed. _You think and you are, _he reminded himself, _you feel and you are!_ He struggled to breathe; he'd survived this before! Since- since childhood, he- he, and he felt a great panicked _sob _burst from his chest. In the darkness, he could see things, things that weren't real that said things he didn't want to hear. And he heard them, he could always hear them, the spectres in the darkness, telling him- his sisters were hurt! They were taken, they were _breaking-_

No! He snarled, mustering his fury. He bit his tongue to focus on the _pain._ He had bested The Hole before! It had made him strong, strong enough that the Pool of Darkness had _nothing _he hadn't seen before, had taught him about the Light Inside! And he- where was the Light? Why couldn't he call the Light!

The faces- He could see- the dark- oh gods, the dark! He couldn't- he couldn't feel himself anymore! He was being swallowed up- _swallowed whole- _by the darkness, it was- it was taking him and he s_creamed _his terror, but all sound was swallowed by the darkness.

In time… he would be out, he knew, he _had to know that he would be out. _He would- he always got out. It took… oh _gods _it would be _days- _No! He just- just needed to focus. Breathe- but he couldn't! He was- he was _buried alive in-_

"Jaune, it's okay, Jaune!" he heard a voice. He knew the voice. But he always knew the voices. "Hear my voice, Jaune, and come back to me."

"Who..." he murmured, confused, choking on darkness.

"It's me, Jaune, it's Pyrrha. I'm here. I'm with you. You're not back there, you're here, in Vale. Listen to my voice, Jaune, _focus on my voice,_" and he shuddered as he realized that he wasn't in the darkness, but in a brightly lit room. His eyes darted around, and he was confused. Nothing looked right and- "You're on your back, Jaune."

Oh. Oh, that made… that made sense. He gave a faint laugh, as the things he could see, all the colors and shapes and shadows slowly regained meaning. But his eyes rested on Pyrrha's, those brilliant emeralds glowing tenderly, a gentleness he knew few saw. A shame. She really had lovely eyes...

But they darted away, suddenly, and Jaune had to reorient himself. He should probably sit up, but he felt so dizzy that he knew he wouldn't be able to balance himself. "Where… where am I?"

"Just a meeting room at Beacon," Cinder cut in. He was relieved to have her here, knowing that she had been with him, had gotten him here. "You had an episode after the Arc family," and she said the name with a wrathful snarl, "smuggled in a piece of contraband. They _will _be punished to the-"

"No!" and he surprised even himself with how forceful his words were, "I mean, no… they didn't know what would happen, and they only meant… they thought it would help me."

"My Prince," Pyrrha said softly, dabbing away the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, "they broke the rules. They _hurt _you. And it _will_ be answered. Allow me to-"

"No, I-" he took a breath, "This was on me. I take full responsibility and will not allow, on my honor, for _anyone _to take the blame, other than myself. That is my command," he said, and Pyrrha shivered to hear those four words. Jaune knew that the force of his words in a direct command could _not _be disobeyed by any of his sisters, though he rarely enjoyed using that authority.

But Jaune realized, as he looked around the room, that everything was too quiet, too peaceful, that there was something off with that. Something he was expecting that wasn't there.

"Wait..." Jaune murmured, "there wasn't a lockdown?"

"It was my call," Cinder explained, "I wanted to avoid a panic, and it seemed that you were merely having an episode. I insisted that you just be allowed to take a moment to recover, and that we'd deal with the repercussions later."

"So Weiss is-"

Pyrrha rubbed his shoulder. "She's with the Schnees," she said, "She'll be fine, Jaune, she's Nice Weiss, I had her practice while you were with the Arcs."

"N-no!" Jaune choked, "Cinder, quick, we have to get to them before Weiss, before-"

"Jaune!" Pyrrha grabbed his arm, "_Sit. _Stay down, breathe. You're no help to anyone if you're in a panic and you're in a panic right now."

He wanted to fight her, but she was right. He needed to stay calm. "I- I want to be near. Near the room, I mean. Where she's meeting her family."

Cinder looked to Pyrrha, the two of them evidently having some silent conversation Jaune was not to be privy to. But then she looked down to him. "Fine. Pyrrha, I want you to return to Emerald and Blake in the waiting room. I don't want the Atlesian security team to be any more nervous than his presence will make them. I'll go with Jaune, and we'll be nearby in case… anything happens."

"There won't be" Pyrrha quickly cut in, giving him a smile. "She'll be fine, Jaune. Weiss has been doing really well all day. You'll see."

She left as Cinder helped him up from his seat. Pyrrha's words were a comfort, but Jaune just wasn't sure if he could, deep down, convince himself to believe them. Weiss… he knew he had a tendency to underestimate her. She was stronger than she looked, and she'd done so well so far, and Jaune really didn't want to make her feel like he didn't trust her. Besides, Cinder and Pyrrha both agreed that she'd be fine, and he could trust that they would be right.

At least, he really, really hoped they would be right.

* * *

**Thanks again to Renarde and DanishVulkanHestan for feedback and advice on the chapter!**

**Reviews were asking about Qrow and Clover and, yes, their relationship is going to be a small part of the story. This is a story about love and relationships, whether platonic _(really_ excited to get to that character!), familial, or romantic, and, importantly, where some are humanizing and others are toxic. The kids were raised in a hellworld by the Queen of Evil, and they're really not great at healthy expressions of love, so the story's going to show how they grow and change. Qrow and Clover's relationship isn't really _that _much in focus, but it, like Summer and Tai or the Belladonnas, is there to contrast and reinforce some of my bigger points with the story.**


	4. Crisis

**CW: Self Harm**

"It's alright, father," Winter said, giving her father's arm a comforting squeeze, "you just have to breathe."

But he'd never been one to take orders. Especially when it came to taking care of himself. "I don't- how can- she- she-"

_"Breathe," _she said, giving her voice the weight of her authority and command, just as General Ironwood had taught her for leading troops. And it seemed to get through.

After taking and holding a few deep breaths, he looked back to her. "Thank you, Winter," he said in a small, chastened voice.

"It's alright," she reassured him, "according to the General, it's only her appearance that has been altered. She's still Weiss, she's still our Weiss."

Whitley fidgeted nervously in his chair. Winter gave him a compassionate glance. It wasn't better for him to be here or not be here, so they had been caught in a wretched indecision where they didn't know what to do, and Whitley was smart enough to catch on. She felt for her brother, but there just wasn't much she could do. She was barely holding it together, much less their father. They needed to present a strong front, to let each of them rely on each others' calm, but her father was in too much of a state to support anyone, and Winter couldn't focus on both her father and her brother. Whitley, at least, was only quietly nervous.

She idly wondered if it might be best to just cancel, to not risk it, but she knew they'd have to go through this eventually… or, worst case scenario, if they canceled, they'd never get another chance. And she couldn't- no, she wouldn't imagine it. She would see her sister for the first time since she was just a little girl. She would—Winter steeled herself, refusing to let her own sorrows be seen by the rest of her family—she would be present for what her mother couldn't. She owed her mother that much. She owed her sister even more.

And she owed her family to be a pillar of strength. She willed her heart back down as she gave her father a comforting pat on the shoulder. An Atlesian Specialist did not show emotion if it jeopardized the fate of the mission, and this was a mission more critical than any she'd undertaken in all her career.

And as a Specialist, she came prepared. She didn't like anything about Dr. Merlot, but… his intel file suggested that he was the best bet they had for understanding this. He was open and clear, this was almost _entirely _guesswork, trying to anticipate a truly _unprecedented_ occurrence, but… he was the best they had. And she felt a lot better having even an _inkling _of what might be going on. Merlot had theorized that the claimed might have a Grimm-like sensitive to negative feelings, and that it'd be paramount to keep things calm, even warm, friendly. Advice her father _clearly _wasn't taking.

But they didn't have time. Her speaker crackled to life. "Specialist Ebi to Specialist Schnee: we're ready to go."

"Copy that," she responded. "We're good on this end."

She wore her Specialist's uniform, even though she was, technically, here purely as Weiss's sister. As such, she was unarmed, her saber kept with Clover outside. She felt naked without it, but the last thing they needed was anything that could suggest tension or hostility. Giving her father one last gesture of reassurance, she looked to the now-opening door.

And... she saw her sister. For the first time since she was a child she saw… her sister. She smiled graciously, gave a curtsy, and with a cheerful, cherubic voice said, "Hello! I'm Weiss!"

And Winter _melted. _For all her words to her father, for all her training and composure, she couldn't hold back. The photos had not prepared her for how much it would mean to _see _her again, alive, in person! She rushed forward from her chair, unable to stand on ceremony and scooped up her little sister into the biggest hug she'd ever given anyone in her life.

"You're _back,_" she sobbed, thinking of her mother, and how dearly she just wanted to see her little girl again, "You're back!"

"Winter, please," her father attempted to chide her as he crossed the room, but he was far too caught up in the moment, laughing and crying without any thought of control, to sound like there was any censure in his voice, "don't overwhelm your sister."

She released Weiss from her hug, her little sister somewhat surprised and a little overwhelmed, but then she looked upon her father… and she smiled. She smiled, a bright angelic smile that reminded Winter so much of the precious pictures and videos she still had of their mother, and father simply broke down. He was an old man, aged hard by fifteen years of grief, but in that moment, clasping his long-lost little girl by the shoulders and just holding her… There was nothing Winter could ever do for him that was better than this moment.

"Weiss!" he said, "Yes?" she answered, and "Weiss!" he cried again, and then he hugged her. It was a touching sight, and Winter went over to where Whitley was standing—he'd only been a baby when Weiss had been taken, but he understood the great gravity of the moment where the looming absence in their lives was finally filled.

"I-" Weiss began hesitantly, "I have missed you all, dearly. It's been… it's been a very long time since I have seen you last. I… I have been well. There were frightening times, but it is so good to see you all again."

She was so… formal and rehearsed, and it was clearly a speech she wanted to give correctly and it brought a surge of profound emotion to Winter's breast.

Her father wiped away the tears from his eyes. "I- I cannot tell you how much, how dear it is to see you again. In fifteen years, I-" he sniffled, squeezed his eyes shut, and then, as the moment passed, broke into an incredulous laugh, "I hadn't- I really hadn't thought I'd ever see you again, Weiss."

"I'm back," she said, softly. Almost like she didn't know what she was saying. To go so many years, and to see your sister again… Winter, who'd gone through Academy and the military with a reputation for cold, ruthless efficiency, was overpowered by emotion.

"You… I don't know what you might remember, you were so young, and it was so long ago, but this is your older sister, Winter."

She looked to her sister, and something like recognition flashed across her face, but with it… there was unmistakably the trace of fear. She looked away, back to her father, and Winter could guess why. Fifteen years ago… she was scarcely ten years old, but she still remembered. Remembered her baby sister's terrified eyes looking desperately to her and the way she cried for help and the terrible, wrenching _fear _that clawed in Winter's throat that she couldn't do _anything _to help. It was that fear, that sense of helplessness that galvanized Winter into the woman she was today. She had resolved to never again allow herself to be that helpless, not when her family was involved. But for all Weiss remembered… it would only be the sight of her big sister, on the worst day of her life, unable to do anything as their mother screamed and collapsed and the soldiers took her away. Of course she looked at her and was afraid.

But… they would have time. They would have time to make new memories, to mend old hurts, to rebuild their relationship—to rebuild their _family. _

But father kept speaking, gesturing over to Whitley, who nervously approached, uncertain of what to say or do as their father became uncharacteristically emotional. "And… he was only a baby at the… at the Separation, but this is your brother, Whitley."

"My... brother?"

There was an odd tremble in her voice, the kind that triggered a feeling deep in Winter's gut that something was happening, that something was _wrong,_ and she needed to get the adrenaline going. But her father did not seem to have the same reflex. "Yes… you might not remember, but, yes, you have a little brother, and he's missed-"

"My brother."

Her repetition seemed to get through that something was wrong. Winter moved to her father's side, careful not to crowd Weiss. It felt as though the lights dimmed, slightly. "Is… everything alright, Weiss?" she asked, realizing that the lighting _had _dimmed, and she could feel her aura prickle on her skin. Something was very wrong.

"I- I _have _a brother," she said, sounding more like insistence than recognition.

"Yes! Whitley is your-" Winter put a hand on her father's shoulder, realizing that he _really _needed to stop talking.

"He is _not _my brother!" Weiss insisted, a furious anger suddenly twisting her face, _"Jaune _is my brother!"

Whitley tottered backwards in fear, which was fortunate, letting Winter focus on protecting her father. "Weiss, it's okay, it's okay, we're-"

"No!" she snarled as she balled her fists, the dark lines across her face _pulsing _with a disturbing energy. "No- not okay! Not okay! Jaune was there for me when- when- you _abandoned me!_" she screamed, and a crown of black fire suddenly erupted around her head.

Winter was stunned for a second as the flames soared and a vase behind them _shattered._ The lights overhead burst, sending sparks showering down on them, but her father had no realization of the true danger he was in. "Weiss, please!" he cried out in desperation, lurching forward as the thing that was once his daughter's hands burst into flames. "You are my-"

"Father!" Winter cried as her reflexes kicked in, narrowly pulling him away as a bolt of dark energy flew past his face, blasting a hole in the wall. "Whitley, stay behind me!" she ordered, then grabbed her radio, "This is Specialist Schnee. Code Black, I repeat Code Black!"

Klaxons screamed to life in the hall outside as the situation went right to hell. Winter watched in horror as her sister seemed to summon an orb of darkness, plunging her hand into it and producing a rapier that, even in the emergency lighting, she could see was a black, wicked looking thing that made Winter acutely feel the absence of her saber. Weiss looked to her, their eyes meeting, but that wasn't Weiss, not anymore, her eyes glowing with cold fury as she held the rapier in her hand... and impaled herself on it. Winter looked in horror as a spray of black blood spurted in a long arc into the air for a moment, and then… the blood turned to tiny Nevermores in midair. "Attack!" she screamed, and suddenly, a hundred feathery Grimm missiles were headed right for her.

Unarmed but undeterred, she snatched up a chair and used it to deflect the initial wave—though the tiny Grimm almost immediately shredded it. "Father, Whitley—out the back door, _now!_"

Fortunately, they took her command reflexively and fled as she rolled out of the way as the Nevermores circled and made a second pass. A quick glyph blocked another shot from Weiss, though it burst and sizzled in the air with a horrifying noise.

Clover burst in through the door, only to be suddenly _slammed _against the wall, a thick black tentacle that had monstrously burst from Weiss's chest now wrapped around his wrist—and then he _screamed _as his hand began to blacken and smoke. Winter looked on in horror as the girl, who ought to be her _sister_, sobbed, black tears streaming down her face, her body warping and twisting with… with whatever monstrosity now dwelt within her.

She had to save Clover, she had to… she had to… she pulled her combat knife from her boot, but... she was her _sister!_

But then two more came into the room! The Queen's servant and… the boy, the red eyed one, their hellish light glowing in the darkness as he raced to Weiss and flung his arms around her. "It's alright, it's alright, I'm _here, _Weiss. You're safe," he cried.

"I- I-" her sister sobbed, "I'm scared. I'm scared, Jaune, I'm scared!"

"It's okay to be scared," he soothed, "But you're safe now, you can let go. _I'm here._"

The Nevermore plummeted out of the air, fluttering weakly as they burst into black smoke, just as the tentacle disintegrated into guttering flames, letting Clover slump to the floor. Winter's long-honed combat instincts kicked in, and she raced over to him, to help him out of the room and to urgent medical attention.

But as she carried her comrade out, she caught one last glimpse of her sister, the black, acrid tears running down her face as she gripped her "brother" tightly, and Winter knew, knew in her heart, that she would never feel more hatred towards anything in her life than the _creature_ that did this to her family.

* * *

So, they were on security lockdown.

Blake wasn't sure what to make of that. It was probably Weiss related, but at the same time, she didn't want to make assumptions here. Could just as likely be from the Remnant side, either a rogue movement trying to "rescue" them… or just as likely, an assassination attempt. Or, with so many powerful families in one place, could the White Fang just look the other way? Or even one of those cults that worshiped Mother in the hopes that they'd be either favored or spared her wrath. She had really wanted to meet one, but Ms. Fall told her that Mother did not acknowledge or make contact with any of them, so as not to encourage them. But… of all those options, she had to admit, it was probably Weiss related.

It was funny, when the lockdown was initiated, one of their guards, the lanky one with the scythe, had tried to stop Pyrrha from going to Jaune—her armor burst into black flames and with a single, focused _glare _she threw him backwards and flung him aside. Blake had had to calm people down a little after that, showing the Silver-Eyed Warrior that her golden eyes had their _own_ power behind them (though it made her skin _crawl _to look at her). But once the magic in her gaze let all the anger drain out of their guard, she realized that Blake was right, and that Pyrrha was best left to her own devices and they should just stay put with Blake and Emerald. After that, the rest of the lockdown would be just fine.

Actually… no, it wasn't fine. Right now, Blake sat next to Emerald, sitting silent and morose as the alarms finally subsided. In all the excitement they'd had so far, she'd almost overlooked the most important thing: that Emerald did not seem to have taken her meeting well. And after everything she'd said before it, Blake just felt terrible to have neglected her.

She put a comforting hand on Emerald's back, and winced that the girl didn't even try to stop her, like she normally would have. "Hey," she whispered, "How're you feeling?"

Emerald looked away, as her skin mottled as it always did when she was upset. "Em..." she gently soothed, "Em, I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong."

"They're not my parents."

This was… inevitable, Blake supposed. "I'm sorry," she ventured, sympathetically, "I'm really-"

And then Emerald whirled on her, her eyes obviously red and puffy, something she could easily have fixed if she wasn't so upset. "They couldn't even try to hide it on their faces when they saw me. They _said _they missed me, that they _loved _me, and they- they- They didn't even _try _when they were lying to me! It was…" but her anger broke as she looked mournfully to her sister, "They didn't even try."

"I'm so sorry, Em, but you're still-"

But Emerald wasn't done. "So, yeah, I'm not a princess. Have a good laugh, and tell _Pyrrha _that I'm just a stupid, dumb _orphan _who's not anything special."

"Em!" she gasped, "Nobody thinks of you like that! I just... didn't realize being a princess meant so much to you."

"It's not that I'm not a godsdamned princess!" Emerald exploded, and Blake was grateful that their "security team" was on the other side of a door she quickly hexed to be soundproof, "I don't have a _family,_ Blake! I don't have parents! I- I read the report," she sobbed, and Blake _really _winced at that. She'd seen it too, swiped from Arthur's encrypted files, an intercepted Atlesian Intelligence document written about them, and it had not been gentle. "It said I was found on the street and I _know _it's true. I've always known I don't have- I don't have anything! I don't have parents, I don't have a past, I- I have _nothing, _I come from _nothing, _so what am I!"

"My sister," Blake answered without hesitation, "You will _always_ be my sister." And she pulled Emerald into the tightest hug she could manage, "No matter where you're from, no matter how you came here… you're my _sister,_" she sobbed, "My beloved, perfect sister."

She loved Emerald. She loved all her siblings so much. They were the only ones she truly cared for, the only ones who truly could understand her, the only ones who were truly worthy. No one else in the world had ever faced the primeval Darkness in the way her family had. They'd been marked and scarred and set apart—but they had each other. They would always have each other.

Emerald wept into her shoulder, "Why. This world, I… why is everything so _cruel?"_

Blake gripped a handful of Emerald's dress and squeezed tightly, hoping the gesture would give her some focus as she took a deep breath. "That's why we're here, Emerald. We're here to fix things, so that _no one _ever has to go through what we went through. So we can make a better world."

She felt as Emerald took a breath, steadying herself against Blake and letting her tears dry. And then she spoke, in a clear voice, ringing with Emerald's righteous anger. "They've failed. The kingdoms have all failed. Everywhere, there is hunger and poverty and death," Blake could hear the ring of anger rising in her voice, "It shouldn't be allowed, _they _shouldn't be allowed."

And she held Emerald, her dear sister, one of the only four people in this world she could truly trust. In the strength of their bond she felt the Darkness inside her rise up and guide her words. "We will change them. We all will. Together." And she looked her sister in the eyes, "Emerald: you are the Shrike. You are your Prince's justice, his retribution... his assassin. When the time comes, when the hour of reign is to be brought down upon the kingdoms, will you uphold your task? Will you serve?"

And Emerald looked up, her eyes free of tears and burning with new purpose.

"I shall."

* * *

He was not a brave man.

Jacques knew what courage was, knew what it meant to be brave. But he knew he didn't have it in him. He'd kept up a brave face while around his son, doing what he could to reassure him, but now, now that he was alone, waiting in a Beacon hallway... now he felt the full weight of the world on his shoulders. And he wasn't strong enough. The one thing, the only thing that kept him going over the last fifteen years, that kept him from collapsing into an alcohol-soaked pit of despair was the promise that _maybe, _just maybe… he could bring his daughter back. And even as hopeless as it seemed now, he knew, for his Willow's sake, he could not give up… could not…

His daughter was lost.

"Jacques."

He looked up, but from the enormous shadow and forceful voice, he already knew who it was. "I'm sorry, Ghira," he said, "I am… I suppose you can guess," he said with a joyless laugh.

"I feel I'm in the same state, myself," he replied, seating himself besides him, the bench groaning from his weight. Jacques always felt dwarfed next to the massive man: not just for his physical size, but his stature, his incredible accomplishments and ability that seemed to draw the contrast between them even starker. Ghira and Kali had been heroes, even before they lost their daughter—while he'd been an insecure, grubby miser, squandering everything that mattered in pursuit of hollow wealth that could do _nothing _to get his wife or daughter back.

And yet, this was a moment where he really needed his friend.

Ghira clapped a weighty hand on his shoulder, and Jacques felt his spirit break. "She… she… what did she do to my little girl," he moaned, "My poor, poor little girl!"

"They… that _witch,_" and Ghira's voice struggled to contain the hatred he felt in that word, "did something to my daughter as well. Changed her, on the inside."

Jacques looked up to the man, their eyes meeting in shared horror and loss, "What… what happened?"

"Everything seemed… I believed her, I really couldn't… I couldn't believe that she was… Couldn't imagine that..." and a great sob came across the man, "But Kali… Kali could see through her. She'd done counterintelligence for the Movement for years. And she could tell she was lying, she could read her face and knew… knew that she was faking her emotions. Manipulating us."

"To what ends?" Jacques looked at him with alarm. Seeing his own daughter attack him and his family had shattered his heart, but Weiss had only attacked _them. _For Ghira and Kali… not only had this been a dagger to their hearts, this was an attack on Remnant itself. A pit in his stomach started to widen as he realized that he had been so focused on his personal tragedy that he'd almost missed the reality that these… replacements had existential ramifications for all of Remnant.

"I don't know," the Chieftain admitted, "but it wasn't hard to guess, from reviewing what she'd told us that she was looking to advance one of them as a leader to us. This 'Prince,' the Arcs' boy, he's the ringleader. He's Salem's chosen, and… whatever power she has over them, she executes it through him."

His meaning was as grave as it was clear. But the sheer gravity of what he was implying gave even Jacques pause. "What do you mean?" he said, less a question than a refusal to make the connection himself.

It seemed Ghira understood his hesitance on a deep level as well. "We need more information," he said, slowly, "but it is possible, that, should it come to it… If the Arc boy is the weakness, the line to cross to get our daughters back… You and I both know that no option is left off of the table."

He nodded. "That is true," he agreed, "That is very true."

And Ghira nodded as well. "We'll keep an eye on the situation, and your daughter has… discretely informed us of a specialist who might be able to help. But if it comes to it..."

"We'll do whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes," Ghira nodded. "You're a good man, Jacques." Then he laughed, "Hard to imagine, fifteen years ago..."

"Could we even imagine…" The Jacques of fifteen years ago certainly couldn't. Back then, Ghira and Kali were tenacious nuisances, starry-eyed activists with no thought of how business was done. But that Jacques had been a fool, the fool who'd given up his own, precious child. And that thought reminded him that they were not here to reminisce. And they had work to do if they wanted their daughters back. "But, officially, we still aren't close. So we can't spoil the illusion."

Ghira smiled, though the joy was clearly forced. "Not that much longer, my friend. Just a little more, that's all. Just a little more… and we'll have them back."

"Just a little more," he agreed. And, with Ghira here, he really believed it. In spite of everything, they just needed to have faith. They just needed to stay strong. And if they did that... they could rescue their daughters from the monster that held them in its clutches.

**Thanks to Renarde and DanishVulkanHestan for feedback on the chapter!**


	5. What's Broken And Breaking

So that had been a disaster.

Pyrrha had found Jaune unharmed, thankfully, and calming down Weiss, who seemed very upset but uninjured. From the state of the room, it was clear she had gotten scared and reacted violently—she could still smell the acrid scent of Weiss's dark blood—but there were, at least, no fatalities. None on Pyrrha's end, either. She had now attacked three members of the security staff, Mr. Branwen on her security detail as well as two Atlesian Specialists, but they, at least, seemed to understand that once they'd been flung aside that Pyrrha had no intentions other than to protect her family.

Either way, she could deal with the consequences later, and she was more than prepared to go to war with all of Remnant to protect her family. She was practically _eager _for it. Escorting them back to their room, she was soon joined by Blake and Emerald, who seemed concerned, but nothing that needed her urgent intervention. Once they reached the room, Blake whispered something to Jaune, more quietly than even Pyrrha could hear, but it was evidently something about Emerald, as he quickly gave her sister a close hug that Emerald desperately clung to.

Things were bad.

In one day, three of her siblings had been… This was… It reminded her of when they were younger, in the bad times, before they'd been taken to the Pool of Darkness, when their lives were ruled by terror and helplessness. That was supposed to change. Supposed to never happen again. The Pool was supposed to have given her the strength to not _allow _it.

But today, she had no idea what to do while her family suffered. She looked away, ashamed. She had failed her Prince, she was _unworthy _of his-

But Blake had caught her by the arm, drawing her away from her thoughts. "The reception," she whispered in her ear, "is apparently still happening." Pyrrha looked at her incredulously, "I know, I know, it's… completely insane, but I think it makes sense—we've got five different countries running this event, plus us, and nobody's talking to each other. So Atlas is _definitely _out, and the Vacuos are out, because," she gestured towards where Emerald was, clinging to their brother, "But… Vale didn't cancel the event, so it's technically still happening. The reception's a good chance to try and restore normalcy, so it could be good for us. And… take our mind off of some things. I'd rather not go alone, but if you're not interested..."

She glanced over to where Jaune was with Weiss and Emerald, as he helped the two of them calm down. "I'll go. I think Jaune could use the space to just let Emerald and Weiss recover, without us being in the background."

Blake nodded. It was hard for them to leave their sisters when they were in pain, but they wouldn't be able to help. And Emerald was proud—she wouldn't want them, especially not her, to see her in a moment of weakness.

Pyrrha, strong, invincible Pyrrha, the Eagle, the battle-standard, hated nothing more than feeling helpless. When she had been taken to the Pool of Darkness, she alone of her siblings had _welcomed _it, had entered the dark and offered it _everything_ if only it would give her power enough to be able to protect Jaune. And it had granted her power, power beyond imagination, power that gave even Mother the sharp, acrid taste of fear. In her wrath and splendor and glory, _none_ could stand against her. But that power… she realized it had been a rigged game. No amount of power, no conquest could help her siblings now.

If she was at home, she would have gone out into the wilds and cut her fury into the land, tearing up Grimm and geography alike as she vented her terrible rage upon everything before her. But she wasn't home, she wasn't in the Grimmlands. So all she could do was sit and wait and contemplate her own powerlessness.

But the world had merciful gods, and Ms. Fall chose that moment to enter the room.

She definitely felt the room turn cold as she entered. Ms. Fall had been a presence in their lives since they were children, but, no matter what Emerald might fantasize, she was not _family. _And this was an unwise trespass.

Moving gingerly over to Jaune, surely about to request his attention for a briefing on the situation, she was intercepted by Blake. "Ms. Fall," she asked, her voice having all the sweetness of poisoned honey, "can I speak with you, _outside?_"

She gave Blake a tense look—not unsure, Ms. Fall was _never_ unsure, but one where she knew this wasn't a situation she wanted, but had to endure anyways—before following her into the hall. Pyrrha decided to go as well, figuring that what Blake had planned was likely similar to Pyrrha's own thoughts, but that she wanted to give it her own, personal touch.

Outside, Ms. Fall turned to the two of them, a measure of impatience in her voice. "I understand that you have reason to be concerned-"

"Ohhhhh, we have _reason,_" Blake said through gritted teeth—and far more than a Faunus ought to have, "to be concerned. Would you care to explain why things have gone the way they have? Especially concerning my _sisters' _well-being?"

A fine scent tickled Pyrrha's tongue. _Fear. _Suppressed, but with her and Blake, such emotions could never be suppressed for long. But Ms. Fall steeled herself as she looked Blake in the eye. "The meeting achieved the goal the Queen hoped for when she _instructed _me to proceed. The Councils are in a panic, they've already canceled the state dinner you were to have tomorrow with the Council of Vale, they're scrambling to switch it to being dinner with the Beacon Faculty, or something like that. All in all, tonight has been a success."

"A success? A _success?_" Blake looked incredulous, then thundered, "It _traumatized _Weiss! And Emerald isn't doing so well, either!"

Ms. Fall looked surprised at that. "Emerald? Why is-" and then realization clicked and her voice turned grave. "Oh... She knows, doesn't she?"

"Yes," Blake growled, "she knows. And she's very upset."

"I'll go speak with her-"

"No," Pyrrha cut in, "that's not going to help. She doesn't want to be pitied. Jaune's with her now, and he'll help her." The look that Ms. Fall gave Pyrrha was one she'd never seen directed at her before in her life, much less on this woman's face. It was a look of indignant refusal, and it quite annoyed her to see it. But at the same time… whatever their differences, Emerald was hurt, and she knew Ms. Fall could help. "Give her a task," she grunted, "something that sounds important that you can entrust her with. That's what she needs from you, not another shoulder to cry on."

It was rare for Pyrrha to play the role of the peacemaker, especially with Blake here, but with Ms. Fall, she knew that the only way to override that authority came through her. Blake seemed to pick up her real meaning, though, as she nodded. "So long as we're all on the same page… This won't happen again. Even if Mother… commanded it."

Once again, Blake was brushing against the possibility of insubordination, and the Darkness inside Pyrrha _writhed _to hear it. But it could writhe all it wanted. Pyrrha was about to push it even further. As Blake walked back into the room, Pyrrha caught Ms. Fall by the shoulder. "Ms. Fall? A moment?" she asked, a hint of severity in her voice as she closed the door in front of them.

Ms. Fall turned, uncertain what to expect, doubly so when Pyrrha forcibly slammed her against the wall. "What happened today," she hissed, looming above Mother's majordomo, "was _unacceptable. _My _siblings_ are not _tools _for _anyone's_ political advantage. Not _yours. _Not even _Mother's._ If this happens again, I will hold you," and with a _pulse _of magic, she began to wrap of tendril of power around Ms. Fall's rapidly-beating heart, "_personally _responsible."

She gasped, the taste of her fear _delicious _on Pyrrha's tongue, "The- the Queen! She-"

"Cannot protect you from _me,_" she snarled, "I am my Mother's daughter, Ms. Fall. If I am your _enemy, _you know that there is no one in the world who can stop me. This will not happen again. Am I clear?"

She released her, the shorter woman slumping down to the floor as she frantically struggled to regain her composure. She looked up, wild eyed and terrified, and the Darkness inside Pyrrha cheered to see her so beaten. "I- I understand, it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," she replied as she returned to her siblings.

* * *

As satisfying as intimidating Ms. Fall was, the satisfaction quickly evaporated as it became clear that, now, Pyrrha was heading to a place as far out of her strengths as she could imagine. She appreciated having Blake with her, but, at the same time, this _was_ Blake's element, and she didn't want to get in her sister's way. As Ms. Fall announced their entrance, seeming to all the world that she hadn't been in the grip of mortal fear not even an hour earlier, she stumbled her way forward, nervously looking across the room.

She didn't like her dress, and it felt… bulky and ill-fitted, the soft silk clashing with her bony armor plates, made even worse as she saw all the people looking so… elegant and like they belonged. She wasn't for silk and cotton, she _lived _for bone and iron, the clash of her foe's sword shattering against her armor. She knew they were judging her, making fun of her, like Emerald and Blake did when she first tried on her dress.

Uniformed caterers carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres crisscrossed the room. Blake had told her that they were secretly Valean agents, top level Huntsmen there to be security. They certainly seemed calm and composed enough to be something other than just food service workers, but it wouldn't be the first time Blake had made something up just to see if Pyrrha would believe it. Like when she told her that Professor Callows's tail would regrow if she cut it off.

A caterer approached, carrying a tray of… some kind of meat on a wooden skewer. There were fifteen skewers, and she could use them and the tray quite effortlessly as weapons—the skewers weren't sharp or solid enough to puncture armor, but, she knew, nobody but her was _wearing _armor, and-

"Frog's legs?" she asked, "They're a Valean delicacy."

"Ah, no thank you," she replied, hoping she sounded polite when she was so far out of her element. The caterer just nodded and moved on. She hoped she hadn't said something embarrassing, especially if these were Valean intelligence agents. The thought of her embarrassment being caught on record by a hidden microphone and stored in a government archive...

"Good thing Weiss isn't here," Blake whispered. "This is the _last_ way she'd want to actually see a frog."

Pyrrha couldn't stop her face from breaking out into a grin. "Thanks," she whispered to her sister, appreciating the humor and giving her hand a squeeze before she watched as Blake fluidly slipped into a new persona and broke off to work her former parents some more. Pyrrha admired her, so easily able to wear a different appearance for whatever was needed, unlike Pyrrha, whose bony armor plates were a permanent reminder that she was her brother's champion first and a person second. But… that brought her to the question of what she was supposed to do now.

Speaking with the Nikos family was the logical choice, right? Like Blake was doing with her former family. But she'd already met with them? They had seemed to be pleased with the outcome of their conversation, and Pyrrha worried that she might seem impertinent to start another conversation with them, without preparing some topic to discuss. She glanced to the Belladonnas, but Blake was already upon them, touching her former mother's ears and comparing them with her own in apt wonder. Pyrrha had to admit—Blake looked like an entirely different person when she was with her former family.

"So, come here often?"

She jumped and spun around in a panic to see two women had snuck up behind her (she cursed how distracted and vulnerable she'd allowed herself to become) drinks in hand. "I- n-no, I'm not- I'm, I'm from the Grimmlands, and I-"

"O...k..." the paler, blonde one of the two responded slowly, "Sorry, it was a bad attempt at a joke." Oh no, she'd already made a mistake! Pyrrha cursed herself—even _Emerald _could handle a social situation better than this! She really wished she had Jaune here, she could do _anything _if she had Jaune. "I'm Saphron, and this is my wife, Terra. We're the Cotta-Arcs. You would know our brother, Jaune?"

She did! She did indeed! And she suddenly realized that Saphron was quite _clearly _related to her brother. It… was a difficult thing to see. A reminder that she… wasn't _actually_ related to her brother. And with that came another emotion, as she remembered what they had _done_ to Jaune, but with it, the _ring _of his command, that only he would be blamed for what happened. "I… yes. He's my brother," she answered, a little more stiffness in her voice than she might have intended.

"Yeah, Mom and Dad told us about that..." Saphron nodded, "I guess it makes sense though—you've had him five times longer than we did and all. And... I'm sorry, I just..." she took a deep breath, "We're really sorry. About the bunny, he… when Jaune was a kid, he couldn't _sleep _without it and Mom just… she always felt," there were tears forming in her eyes as her wife came in closer to her, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm trying," she inhaled, "to stay positive, but..."

"It was his bunny?"

"Um, yes?" Terra answered, surprised at her question, "We… we thought he'd be happy to see his old childhood toy."

She started, hesitantly. "Jaune, he does not-" her voice dropped into a mumble, "He doesn't want you- he doesn't want you to blame yourselves. H-he took responsibility for his… his episode today."

"That's..." Saphron blinked through her tears, "That's very kind, but… we feel… awful."

_You should, _she thought, _you should beg for his mercy like the worms you are, trying to take him from us. _But all she said was, "He… feels for you, too. But… the bunny..." They looked at her expectantly. She didn't know what she was saying, she just knew there was _something_ about the toy that was important. "I would like… I would like to bring it to him, if I could."

The Cotta-Arcs looked to each other, then back to Pyrrha. They gestured for her to follow as they led her back to what had to be Mr. and Mrs. Arc. Pyrrha became aware of just how low turnout was as they crossed the room, the space feeling far too big for the handful of them who showed up. But as they approached, the two of them, surrounded by a small flock of blonde girls undeniably related to Jaune, looked at her uncertainly.

Panic surged. Why was she doing this? She didn't like social situations, and more so, these _people _had _hurt Jaune. _But… she knew what she had to do. She knew what was the right thing to do. Pyrrha was a warrior, and she was acting for her brother. She needed to be brave, and so she made the first move. "I… I am Pyrrha, the Eagle. Prince Jaune is… very dear to me, and I… I would like to ensure that he… he receives his bunny. When he's ready for it, of course."

Her Prince's former parents looked to one another, and then Mrs. Arc reached into her bag and produced a small stuffed rabbit. "Please," she asked Pyrrha in a quiet voice, "please be there for my son. Please, just… help him."

She looked at the woman "I will," she promised. And then Mrs. Arc, with a look of muted, desperate gratitude, pressed the rabbit into Pyrrha's hands.

She held the little thing and looked it over. Small, fluffy, and soft, and still bearing the marks that it was a much loved thing, even in the little time that it had. She couldn't think of a thing more different than herself, and yet… before she had been there for him, this had been his shield, what he clung to in moments of fear and uncertainty. It was her predecessor, and had served Jaune well. She pulled it to her breast, feeling it's softness against the rough plates of her armor.

Pyrrha clasped it tightly, thanking it for its service. The way she hoped Jaune would thank her, cherish her… love her. That was all she wanted, in truth.

The rest of the night passed without incident. She exchanged a few, polite words with the Arcs, but knew that their relationship was far too emotionally strained for their words to be anything other than terse. But… Pyrrha felt some of her anger towards them dissipate. She realized, though reluctantly, that they, in their own way, also loved her brother and only wanted to help him. She also spoke with the Nikos family, who informed her that they, regrettably, had been asked by the Mistralian government to retract their offer of a spar. Pyrrha, though, was relieved—her former parents had made it clear that they would not accept anything less than total defeat before they yielded, and Pyrrha knew only one way to achieve that. And Blake had introduced her to her former parents, the leaders of Menagerie, where Blake's performance was so convincing, even Pyrrha briefly felt a tug at her heart to see them reunited.

She was proud that she had managed to avoid embarrassing herself, even if Terra had to quietly inform her that the wooden skewers, though organic material, weren't normally edible, and Pyrrha felt quite a bit better about herself that she'd done so well. Even without her strength or her weapons, she had advanced her Prince's cause, and she was hopeful she might get a chance to tell him all about it.

But at the end of the night, when she and an exhilarated Blake returned to their quarters, they found that Jaune and Weiss and Emerald were already asleep. Pyrrha didn't need sleep, not as much as her siblings did, but the day had been tiring beyond belief, and it was only moments from her head hitting her pillow and her mind drifting off to her restless dreams.

* * *

She was having a bad dream.

She was used to them. Weiss had bad dreams more often than not. She knew how to recognize them. And Jaune always told her they weren't real and they couldn't hurt her.

They still made her sad.

She'd had this one before. The one with the Pretty Lady, the ghost that fluttered above her and made her cry. Weiss didn't know why she cried, it was just a dream and in the dream, she was sad. But she just saw the Pretty Lady and felt sad and cried and wanted to look away but she couldn't.

She really didn't like this dream.

Especially the way the Pretty Lady said her name, said _"Weiss" _in a way where Weiss couldn't stop crying. She looked so much like the lady that scared her today, and Weiss didn't like that. She felt… she didn't know _how _she felt, and that's what she hated! It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair at all that- that- _she hated it so much!_

And then she woke up, gasping for air in a dark room, wet tears running down her face. Quickly glancing around, she saw that everyone was asleep: Pyrrha lying as still as a statue, Blake loudly snoring, one leg draped off the bed, Emerald fitfully turning, and Jaune...

He looked so peaceful, sleeping there, illuminated by the little yellow nightlight right beside his bed. She got out of her bed and crept over to him. He was the least changed of all of them, and as she reached to touch him, she couldn't help but see the contrast between her own, monster hand and his gentle human-ness. She knew she was a burden on him, a weight dragging him down that made her feel like she didn't deserve anything.

Mother said she was her favorite, but she was lying. Mother lied a lot. Weiss knew that nobody liked her, they just put up with her. They pitied her, because she was broken.

But she needed Jaune right now. So she shook him, lightly. "Big Brother?" she asked, in a hesitant voice.

"Mmmm," he groggily opened an eye, "Em? Izzat- Oh, hey Weiss," he gave her a sleepy smile, "You alright?"

"No," and then she felt the tears flood her eyes as she fought to say more. But Jaune just scooted over and made room on the bed for her to climb in. She sniffled as she curled up in his arms, feeling the faint rhythm of his heart as he held her close.

"Do you need me to sing you a song?"

"I'm not a baby," she sniffed, "and I've heard all your songs a million times."

"Aww… you used to like my songs." That was true. But she wasn't here for that.

"I… I hurt someone today."

There was a catch in Jaune's breathing as he heard that. She heard him bite his lip, then ask, "But you didn't- you didn't go too far. They're all… okay."

"But I wanted to hurt them." And then, when Jaune was silent, she continued, "I was so… I was angry. And I was scared and I- I wanted them to _stop, _I wanted _that woman _to go away, but… something stopped me."

She felt Jaune's arm pull her in tighter, and she felt a little better. "That's… that's good, Weiss. That wasn't something—that was _you._ You stopped yourself, and that's… that's good."

But then the tears came back. "No. No, it's not," she cried, "because I was just so- so _angry, _and I didn't, I didn't-" and then she gave a great sob, "I don't want to hurt people, Jaune! I don't _want _to! But I- I can't- I-"

"Shhhh," he soothed, "shhhh, Weiss, it's okay, it's okay. It was an accident, Everyone's okay. They're okay and you're okay."

"Everybody hates me or is scared of me or just wants me _gone!_"

"Weiss… that's not true. We love you, Weiss, you're our-"

"_Why?_" she asked through her tears, "Why. I'm b-broken, I d-don't deserve any-"

And Jaune pulled her close, holding her close to his breast, and Weiss just cried and cried.

"You're not broken, Weiss. No," he cut off her objection, "you're not. You're Weiss, no matter what happens, you're still Weiss, and you're _everything _to me. You mean everything to all of us."

"I just… I just want to stop doing everything wrong!"

He started stroking her hair, which, Weiss had to admit, did feel nice. "We all make mistakes. And we feel bad when they happen, but what matters is, we try to do better next time."

"You don't make mistakes."

And Jaune paused, and Weiss realized he was struggling to hold back his own tears. "I- I've made- I- _oh gods,_" and now he was sobbing and now Weiss was holding him and he shook with raw emotion, "I try. I try to- I- You four mean _everything _to me, and I do everything I can to keep you safe, from- from- from-"

"Shhhh," Weiss shushed him, "shhhhhh, it's okay, Jaune, it's..." and her deep desire to be _there_ for her brother broke forth, "It's okay! You- you're the _best, _Jaune! You're my big brother! You- you've always been there for me. Always."

He took a bit to collect himself, and once he stopped shaking, he quietly said, "You're really sweet."

"It's true," she protested.

"No, it's- I know you don't… I know you think you're-" he struggled for his words, finally settling on, "I know it's hard for you. But that's why I know you're… you're a good sister, Weiss."

"No I'm not."

"Remember that time you took me frog hunting?" Weiss couldn't help but smile a little. She'd never seen a frog before, except in books, but she was always looking for them. "And you made all the Grimm we encountered act like I could command them?"

"You- you knew?"

"Weiss," he smiled, the smile that made her know that he meant everything he said, "no Grimm has _ever _done what I said unless one of you told it to do so first. But that was… it was really sweet of you to do that for me. I really liked feeling like I was… actually the Prince of the Grimm. And that's the Weiss I know. And that's the Weiss I want _everyone_ to know."

"It's hard," she sniffled.

"I know it is," he patted her on the back, "But we keep trying. And we help each other out. Because-"

"Because we're all in this together," she finished, "And because you'll never leave us behind."

"I will never—never, ever, ever—leave you behind. Any of you."

"Because I'm your Raven."

"No," he corrected her, "because you're my sister."

And she held her brother, and he held her, until the tears stopped flowing and Weiss could finally drift off to a quiet, dreamless sleep.

**And with that, Act 1 is over! Thanks to Renarde and DanishVulkanHestan for feedback on the chapters, and thanks to everyone who's been commenting, faving, and reading my work. I'm really excited to get to Act 2, which features more of the cast as the claimed meet the students of Beacon! Jaune reveals how strong he actually is! Some remarkably bad decisions turn out pretty well! It'll have a lot more levity than Act 1, but also the conspiracy tightens, and you'll see the single darkest thing I think I've ever written. Super excited to get to it, and I hope you'll join me for Chapter 6!**


	6. The Sun Still Rises

Summer had had worse days.

Not many. But she'd had them. When Ruby had gotten attacked by that Beowulf, and the night in the hospital where she gripped her little girl's hand and desperately prayed to gods she knew didn't answer. Or in the week leading up to Raven visiting Yang for the first time since she was born, when Summer spent most of the days being so gripped with worry for what would happen to her precious little dragon that she was physically ill. And, of course, when she had presented the Arc family with her qualifications and orders to deliver their son to the waiting Bullhead.

Ah, but in those days, those dark, terrifying days, she hadn't been driven out of her mind by everyone being _stupid. _Well, maybe when she was angry at Raven, and her idiotic ego issues. But even Rae's stupid narcissism was nothing on the situation where _two _of the children had had a breakdown, multiple Atlesian Specialists had been attacked, full lockdown had been initiated, and yet, the families had _still been delivered to the reception._ What _idiot…_

She grit her teeth. She'd already been angry enough about it last night. Tai had told her as much over the scroll. He was right, but… she _hated_ when Tai's whole "let it be" attitude was right. Anger wouldn't help her. No, she needed to focus on action, she needed to make it clear to Ozpin that they couldn't afford another slip up. As she walked from the Bullhead dock across Beacon campus, she knew that this was the moment to get back on the ball. That this was too important, too _dangerous_, to be careless.

And a very good reminder of why they couldn't risk any mistakes had just caught up with her.

"Morning, Summer," Qrow called as she slowed to let him catch up, "Let me guess: you're-"

"Absolutely livid and, yeah, I talked with Tai about it last night."

Qrow shrugged. "Well, you'll be happy to hear that Clover's alright—whatever that_ thing_ did to his hand, it resisted aura healing, but nothing permanent. Saw him before I got here."

"Sounds like you two have really hit it off."

He snorted. "He wouldn't shut up about how lucky he was that it almost caught him by the neck, and you know-"

And just on cue, Qrow's Semblance kicked in as his foot went into a surprisingly deep puddle. He cursed as he jerked it out, trying to shake the water out of his shoe, but it was clear he was soaked. And Summer didn't want to admit she smiled, but the timing was just too apt to be anything other than funny, and she really needed something to pick up her mood.

Not long after that, and fortunately so, because Qrow's complaining was starting to bring Summer's mood right back down, they caught up with Amber right outside the main administrative building.

"Well, good morning, sunshines!" she waved, cheerfully, "And how are we doing on this lovely morning?"

"Amber," Summer rolled her eyes. It was too damn early for her to be dealing with this. "what did we say about-"

"That you're old and tired and don't need this this early in the morning, I know." She grabbed the door for them, "Age before beauty! And hey, if I'm the worst thing in your day, that'd sure be a huge win."

Wasn't that the godsdamned truth.

But she knew she wasn't going to be in for a good day, and the way Glynda approached them, with her lips tightly pursed and back even more rigid than usual, told her that her meeting with Ozpin hadn't gone as well as anyone had hoped. Lucky them.

"Morning, Professor Goodwitch," Summer started, "I suppose we should skip the ceremony and just get down to business."

"We're on our own."

That… sent a chill through the room. Even Amber seemed alarmed to hear it.

"What- what does that mean?"

"Officially, the International Councils and the Committee are directing this operation, however..." and Summer could see something that put a deep stab of fear in her heart: Glynda was gritting her teeth, "Cooperation no longer seems possible and… there is no longer leadership, and to avoid an international incident, we will simply be _pretending_ that we're operating on their direction, but..."

"But we're on our own. Gods-mother-fucking-dammit," Qrow seethed, "Alright, I know this is gonna be a clusterfuck, but just give us the rundown of what resources we've still got and what minefields we're gonna trip right over."

"The Council of Vale is deadlocked on action, but our budget and authority is, thankfully, untouched. Vacuo has withdrawn entirely. Mistral's left a token force of Huntsmen at our discretion, but Headmaster Lionheart has returned to Haven. Menagerie has maintained a full presence, but, with Chieftain Belladonna and his wife extending their visit, they'll be focused on providing security for them."

Well, that was some good news, at least. Of all the meetings, the Belladonna family's had gone by far the best. Them remaining in Vale could help put a good spin on things.

"And what about Atlas," Qrow growled, and Summer knew she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.

"Ozpin is… speaking with General Ironwood at this time."

"Oh no," Summer couldn't hold back, "He's not seriously going to-"

Glynda sadly nodded.

"The Council of Vale has…" Glynda struggled to remain diplomatic, "requested that Atlas provide additional security support and-"

"He's bringing in the battleships, isn't he?" Qrow moaned, "And if the Council's useless, we've got no way to try and maintain calm in Vale."

"I mean..." Amber hesitantly cut in, "we did want more help, right?"

Looking over to Amber, Summer had to remind herself that, even as the Fall Maiden, Amber was still fairly young. And her experiences in rural Vale, handling the rare Grimm outbreak on the front lines, left her ill-prepared for high level political issues. "We want flexible and subtle power: Huntsmen, not soldiers, and especially not anything as big as an Atlesian Battleship," Summer explained gently, as she assumed the role of instructor rather than commander, "People are going to see armed soldiers in the street, massive weapons in the sky, and they're going to think that they must be in terrible danger if we need this much firepower. And scared people-"

"Are going to make everything worse," Qrow finished. "Either agitating the Grimm or just agitating the ordinary people of Vale, it's going to take the powder keg we've got and give it a nice shake of Fire Dust."

They all took a moment to imagine the worst case scenario. Whether it was a citywide panic setting off all the tensions shimmering below the surface into a massive riot, or a Grimm attack of a scale not seen in fifteen years, or the claimed being attacked or, and this thought really worried Summer, that they were _part _of an attack. The spearhead of an invasion force. Salem wanted chaos and fear, and what better way to bring it about than by showing the results of the Separation?

No, she could imagine a dozen worst case scenarios but none of them would help. She needed to focus on the now.

"Qrow, you've been observing the claimed. What's your assessment so far?" Summer asked.

"Well, to give you a summary, before yesterday, I would have assumed the Schnee was the weakest combatant," Qrow shrugged, before chuckling darkly, "but then she put a top-level Specialist in the hospital like it was nothing. But I'll note that Belladonna and, and this is interesting, _Arc, _certainly don't move like practiced fighters. Honestly, the boy basically stumbles everywhere, but I don't want to assume the Prince doesn't have tricks up his sleeve."

"So… we don't know much?" she asked, feeling that it was the situation she ought to have expected. Qrow was keen-eyed and had a good danger sense, but this was new territory, for all of them.

"Eh, I'll say this: Nikos has some kind of telekinesis thing, like a Geist, that caught me off guard, but now that I know it's there, well," he chuckled, "she's a tough sort, but she definitely seems beatable. And after talking to Clover, his assessment is similar on that with Schnee. She pulled a trick he didn't see coming with that tentacle, but now that we know not to expect we're fighting a human, they're a lot more manageable. I'd still say Nikos and Vacuo are mostly likely to be the biggest dangers—and Vacuo's a big mystery to me, still—Arc and Belladonna the least."

"I noticed that as well." Glynda agreed with a sharp nod. "Odd that the _Prince_ wouldn't be given any fighting training, though it seemed like Belladonna might be the least changed of the lot—according to her parents, the girl seemed to be the most psychologically stable and, from what I saw at the reception, she seemed… almost entirely normal."

But that answer didn't sit with Qrow well.

"Though… Summer, what happened with you and Belladonna?" he asked, turning to her warily.

"It was… strange," she answered hesitatingly, as she looked for a better word. But strange was, perhaps, the best term for it. "Her eyes have some kind of power, but it's not suggestion or anything like that. I just… wasn't angry. Like, I saw Nikos throw you across the room and I was mad about that, and then I wasn't."

"Some kind of hypnotic effect?" Glynda asked, worried.

"No, it… what I'm gonna say sounds way worse than it was, but it kind of reminded me of an Apathy, only it was just my _anger _instead of my willpower. Like, I _could_ have punched her in the face, but, you know, that was obviously a bad move. And I knew trying to stop Nikos was a bad move _already, _it's just…"

"Summer,"Qrow looked at her, pained, "it really sounds like she's got some kind of hypnotic gaze that makes you think you're not hypnotized."

"Well, that's the trick of it, ain't it?" she sighed, "All I can say is, if she _did _have powers over me, she didn't have me do anything other than what was the best option—don't get in Nikos's way, stay with her and Vacuo, and keep everything on lockdown. I was just calmer for doing it."

She could tell that her answer still didn't sit well with Glynda or Qrow, or even Amber, so she continued:

"But that's all we know for now. The kids have more up their sleeve than you might think, even if they don't look like fighters."

Glynda nodded, meticulously filing that information away for later recall, like she always did.

"I can say that we actually have some good news from Ms. Fall." She reported, "It seems she's no longer requesting any criminal penalties against the Arc family, and whatever issue is between them seems to have been resolved."

Summer breathed a sigh of relief, as Amber cut in.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that it wasn't Ms. Fall's call about that. That woman is a _bitch._" Amber spat.

Summer… had to agree with that. She'd only had limited interactions with her, but they'd all been unpleasant. Relentlessly critical and quick to accuse harmful intent behind _everything, _she'd even left Glynda frazzled from their meetings. Her accusations against the Arc family who, while technically in violation of the guidelines, hardly merited such fierce action. And yet the other day, she'd also seen another side to her.

"I think there's more to Ms. Fall than we're seeing." Summer said, as she gave a sideways glance to Glynda.

"Something dangerous?" Glynda asked.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "it was… when she left from the Arc family meeting, after the boy had his panic attack. The look on her face just… it reminded me of Yang," and she could remember the night perfectly, finding Yang and Ruby in the woods, a deep gash down Ruby's side from a Beowulf, the worst night of Summer's life, "It was a pure look of 'I don't care if I get in trouble for this, the only thing that matters is that he gets help.' I think she cares for him. I really do."

"So," Qrow asked, "I'm gonna say it: Do we think they're fucking or what's the read on their relationship?"

Amber immediately smacked him on the shoulder

"Gods, Qrow, there were a _hundred _ways you could have said that!"

"But, like, we're all thinking it, right?" he asked, valiantly trying to deflect another strike from Amber.

But that was the cue for Ozpin to enter, along with Ironwood—and it was always "Ironwood," never "James," certainly never "Jimmy," with Summer, he was too formal a figure to be anything other than a rank and a last name—who seemed to have aged five years since she'd last seen the man, when he was revealing the state of the claimed to their families. She wondered what it looked like on his end, fielding requests from both the Atlesian and Valean Councils, all while watching Mistral and Vacuo turn tail. She, unlike Qrow and Amber, respected Ironwood, even if she didn't always agree with him. He was rigid, often overzealous, and always gave a hint that he was only a few steps away from drafting every Atlesian Huntsman into the military to all-out war on Salem, but Ozpin trusted him implicitly, and that level of trust was _never _given without first having been earned.

Right now, he was passing along some documents and instructions to Clover's replacement, Specialist Bree—Summer had met her when she and Qrow had met Clover's team for drinks—who lacked her predecessor's easygoing nature, but, mercifully, wasn't Winter Schnee.

Though that thought gave Summer a sudden pang of guilt, imagining if it had been Yang in that room, striking out at Ruby, and what that kind of horror would do to her precious daughter. Winter, for all their clashes, the young up-and-comer of Atlas looking to prove herself against Vale's top Huntress, they were coming from a place of such great personal loss. She resolved, quietly, to try to show some grace to the Atlesians, who were surely in the thick of their own crises.

"I'm sure Glynda's given you the news…" Ozpin gave them all a weak smile as he took his seat. "But I'm afraid neither I nor General Ironwood have all that much I can say at this moment. Too many variables are still in the air, too many delicate negotiations that I can see changing at a moment's notice. For now… your task remains the same: we need to ensure that the children remain safe."

"I take it the Beacon visit's been canceled?" Qrow leaned in with a raised eyebrow.

Ozpin didn't answer, and _that_ sent Summer reeling.

"Oz, you can't be... They… _they attacked Qrow! They attacked a Specialist! _Multiple Specialists," she added, glancing to Harriet, who nervously rubbed her arm. She didn't seem like the sort to take getting effortlessly flung aside by a teenager, even a Grimm-enhanced one, well. "And we're looking at putting them in contact, possibly _combat, _with teenagers."

General Ironwood raised his hand, and Summer bit her tongue. Qrow rolled his eyes, but Ironwood gave it no heed.

"We're damn well aware of the risk here. But… we don't have a choice. The claimed are to attend classes along with the Huntsmen-in-Training and we've prepared an itinerary-"

She couldn't hold back. "The Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress are here. You and I have seats on the _Committee, _General, we have the authority to cancel the-"

"It was Salem's request," Ozpin interrupted tersely, and Summer nearly dropped her coffee, "I spoke with her last night."

He didn't have more to say, but from the strained, exhausted tone of his voice, she understood everything. That Ozpin had a backchannel to contact Salem wasn't surprising—Ozpin had magic that even Amber didn't understand, and it made sense that, after the chaos, he would call her, tell her she'd won and to end the games before someone got hurt. But Salem… she didn't doubt she had bizarre and cruel expectations for this visit. Summer had no doubt that yesterday's crisis was part of her plan, almost certainly leading to a bigger one. And there was nothing they could do about it, not when she was acting under a diplomatic banner.

They were all silent for a moment.

There was much to discuss, but it all seemed futile. Like knowing the material of the rope that would be used for your hanging. When literally everything was going wrong, did she need to be notified of every specific crisis they were facing?

Amber glanced around, evidently waiting for someone older, more experienced to take charge. And she found nothing.

"Well, moping about it won't solve anything, so how 'bout we just head over to breakfast?" she asked.

Having no better option, Summer had to agree.

* * *

Breakfast, however, was with the claimed.

It was supposed to be a chance to have a positive face-to-face experience between the kids and their security team, to try and make sure they knew who was there for their protection and to better facilitate communication between them. Summer would have preferred professional distance, but Ozpin had reasoned that the claimed, being just teenagers, would prefer a bit more closeness with their detail. And the Council had thought that this was a "reward" for their service, like Summer, Qrow, and Amber were _jumping for joy_ at the chance to have a stately meal with foreign dignitaries, so of course, they couldn't refuse.

The kids seemed tense as they entered the room, but considerably less so than the adults in the room. All eyes were, though careful not to get caught, focused on Schnee, but she seemed almost wholly unaware of any tensions. If anything, she seemed quite excited by the breakfast table, eagerly trying to race forward to the food before one of the others held her back. She had a childlike bearing, a little unsettling, but mostly saddening—Summer didn't want to imagine _what _she went through in the Grimmlands that left her so emotionally stunted.

Qrow was Ozpin's top intelligence agent, but Summer had experience enough to make her own assessments. Generally, she agreed with Qrow: Nikos and Vacuo both moved like fighters, with the careful step and constant readiness that told her they were well-seasoned combatants. Nikos in particular had a warlike mien that made Summer think of a coiled snake. Belladonna, like always, seemed almost like a normal girl—if it wasn't for her discoloration, she'd blend in perfectly as a Beacon student, something that put Summer on edge. And Arc… she'd already seen Arc stumble today when he anticipated one more step in the staircase than there was. But like with Belladonna, absence of evidence could just be evidence of concealment. Maddening, wasn't it?

Oh, and Ms. Fall was there. Which was lovely, of course, but she seemed to have lost some of her fire from yesterday. So it seemed that there was, at the very least, some stress on her end. Summer wondered if she knew she'd been caught with her mask off, with the wild eyed fear of a woman desperate to do anything to help someone she truly cared for… though, now that Qrow had so _ungraciously _said it, Summer knew her mind wouldn't stop looking for evidence that there was something more going on.

The children walked to their seats, but all waited for Arc to sit down before following his lead. Nikos to his right, Schnee to his left. Belladonna and Vacuo on the outside end. A pecking order, perhaps?

Belladonna had the barest hint of resentment on her face, possibly because she wasn't on the inside seat. Judging from how casually they did so, she suspected that this was a well-established rule back in the Grimmlands. Fitting for a Prince, she supposed, but an unsettling glimpse into what their lives might have been over the past 15 years. Though, perhaps that's why he didn't seem to have any ability as a combatant—the others were to serve in that role?

Maddening unknown after maddening unknown—she thought back to Tai's advice last night. She missed him, and knew that he had vacation time and would gladly come visit her and the girls in Vale, but… they had planned for him to come visit closer to the Tournament, so he could see Yang and Ruby compete.

But a part of her felt that the real reason she didn't want to change their plans was that she didn't want to acknowledge that she _was _stressed and dearly missing her husband. Those were her thoughts, but as she helped herself to some mixed fruit, she saw Amber load up her plate with nothing but sugary pastries and bacon until Summer fixed her harshest mom glare at her until she, reluctantly, also took up some grapefruit as well.

Honestly, sometimes she was worse than her girls.

But after she took her food, she went back to observing the claimed. They ate fast, she noticed, not without table manners, but there was nothing indeliberate about them when it came to food. She had two theories come to mind: the first, that their Grimm metabolism might make them hungrier than they would be unaltered, though Grimm didn't exactly need to eat, and the second, that they were teenagers and this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, it was impressive how quickly they cleaned off their plates, and it took all of Summer's skill to not make it obvious she was watching. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Nikos, reaching for an orange and then… it seemed like she slipped it under the table?

What an odd behavior. Was she saving it for later? Was it something to be concerned about? How much could she do with an _orange?_ Especially considering she could easily request one without having to pocket it discreetly.

But before she could think more on the subject, she heard a great, sucking _gurgle, _like a wagon getting pulled out of the muck, and her eyes shot to where Schnee seemed to be… slowly tracing her arms over her porridge. And, before her stunned eyes, a moaning _figure _seemed to reach from the bowl.

The porridge golem raised its arms plaintively, and then Arc quietly addressed his sister. "Weiss..."

"Mhm," the girl nodded, focused on the stumbling creature that was now crossing to her plate.

"What did we say about playing with your food?" he asked, patiently.

The girl lowered her eyes.

"That I'm not s'posed to," she answered, sullenly.

Then she evidently cut the spell, and the golem collapsed into a pile of wet porridge.

A glance over to Qrow showed that he was as stunned as she was, same with Amber. Glynda was doing her best to seem impassive, while Ozpin seemed as mysteriously unphased as he always did in the face of weirdness.

"Don't worry, Weiss," Belladonna said compassionately, "you'll get a chance to play with some Beacon students today in classes."

She seemed to brighten at that, a look that made Summer's stomach drop like a rock. She shot Glynda a look, who silently signaled she was way ahead of her—there was absolutely _no _chance that Schnee would get a chance to fight in her class. Of all the claimed, Schnee might not worry her as much as Nikos did, but she certainly gave her the creeps.

But that reminded her that this breakfast had a purpose other than a chance to observe the claimed more closely. They were supposed to converse, to build connections that would help them get along, making security easier by knowing that they could trust each other.

It was a stupid plan, but Summer was obligated to try it out.

"Speaking of classes..." she reminded herself that prying conversation out of teenagers was something she was well versed in, "Is there anything you're excited to learn about while at Beacon?"

"Frogs!" blurted out Schnee.

"What." Qrow answered before he realized he was speaking out loud.

"Frogs!" she cheerfully responded. "We don't have frogs at home and I really wanna meet one. I made a frog Grimm once, but it wasn't nice..."

Summer paled at that. A novel Grimm type that'd been dubbed a "Frog Prince" had been encountered last year in Vale. It was roughly the size of a car, could leap incredible distances, and had a tongue that could lash out at nearly the speed of sound. Qrow and Tai had been on a team dispatched to kill it—fortunately, it'd been taken down by another team before they'd had a chance to deploy, but it had sent off a minor panic that the Queen was developing new Grimm.

That it wasn't the _Queen _who was doing it wasn't likely to put people at ease.

"I'm interested in learning more of Vale's perspective on their recent history," Belladonna added, taking a moment to sip her tea, "Particularly the role Valean covert support has played with Andoran Separatists in Vacuo. How Vale reconciles its strong democratic identity with its well-developed international intelligence operation is quite a fascinating subject, and I'm sure I'll learn quite a bit about how the human Kingdoms rationalize contradictions between their values and their actions."

Qrow, who happened to be one of those international intelligence operatives, bit his tongue.

Vacuo, though, seemed oblivious to the barbs hidden in that statement—or she was just acting like it.

"I heard that humans have, like, super-big flying ships that have a million guns on them. Ms. Fall told me that they're almost impossible to infiltrate," Ms. Fall did _not _seem pleased to hear her words quoted back here, "but I bet that's the sort of thinking that leads to overconfidence."

Glynda, though, was an absolute pro, and Summer was damn grateful she was at the table with them.

"I can... certainly pass your interests along to our faculty. Professor Peach might be able to help with a field biology excursion, perhaps down to a local frog pond in the Emerald Forest," and the girl who'd turned her blood into vicious Grimm missiles' eyes lit up like Ruby's did on Christmas morning, "Dr. Oobleck, our History teacher, wrote his dissertation on the impact of Huntsmen on Remnant's military strategy, which has a lot of consideration of covert operations, and… " she swallowed, as even Glynda seemed to have a limit of what she could deal with, "while I would _strongly _encourage you not to trespass on _military installations… _The Atlesian Fleet will be in the skies above Vale until the end of the Vytal Festival."

"Oh?" Vacuo cocked her head, "So they'll be relying on Valean infrastructure to refuel and resupply—which means there's going to be a number of new and unfamiliar elements in-"

"Perhaps," Fall interrupted the overt ops planning, "some conversations are best left _outside the breakfast table."_

Vacuo blushed, and looked back down into her breakfast. Ozpin and Glynda exchanged an uninterpretably neutral look.

Qrow and Amber gave Summer wide-eyed and incredulous stares. This was… not good. Not at all good, but at the same time… Summer couldn't shake the feeling that she was dealing with _kids _here, excited to be at a new place, eager to prove themselves as adults… a lot like the kids she knew best.

"Headmaster..." Arc began, and Summer felt her adrenaline _tense—_she wasn't sure what it was about him, perhaps the fact that there _wasn't _anything but the eyes that seemed off—as he spoke, "Could I speak with you, privately, this morning? It will only be a moment of your time."

Ozpin stilled. The man was an impressively focused and taciturn figure, and this was a moment that took every ounce of deliberation they had. From the looks of things, this wasn't planned. Fall seemed startled to hear it, though knew not to contradict her "Prince" in front of them. But his sisters seemed to have no such compunctions.

"By yourself?" Nikos asked, a hint of alarm in her voice, "My Prince, please, you should not meet with _anyone _without your Sword at hand."

"I know what I'm doing, Pyrrha," he gently chided her as he stood up.

"I want everyone to know that we _don't _mean any harm. That some things," he glanced to the others, "might have been mistakenly said without realizing the harm it causes to our diplomatic aims here."

Belladonna, like Vacuo, now looked down to her breakfast, her face too unnaturally pale to show a blush, but Summer could tell she was embarrassed. Schnee, though, was confused, and Nikos had but the barest trace of smugness cross her face. Interesting—they seemed to value his opinion of them, quite a bit. As their Prince? Or was there something more here?

But Ozpin seemed to have used the time to gather his thoughts. "I would be willing to speak with you, in my office. I can ensure that the two of us have privacy, and can discuss whatever you think is essential."

Summer didn't like that. Summer _really _didn't like that—putting the Chairman of the Committee _alone _in a room with… the unknowns were too much and the risk was too great!

But, she reminded herself… if Arc was capable of fighting Ozpin head to head… she really didn't want to imagine that the situation could be _that _bad. She'd seen it enough times to remind herself that old Oz was a lot more than he seemed, and if he was willing to take the risk… she had to trust him on that.

_If this is the worst thing in your day… _she mused, _it'd sure be a win._

* * *

The Headmaster's office was an impressive room, full of clockwork gears turning and clicking, and a marvelous view of the Emerald Forest, with Vale glimmering in the distance.

Jaune couldn't help but imagine another world, where he wasn't taken. Where he lived and grew up with the Arcs, being… a normal child, as alien as the thought was to him. He'd grow up hearing stories of Huntsmen and their daring exploits, dreaming of one day attending a school as prestigious as Beacon and becoming a hero to the whole world of Remnant.

That Jaune Arc would be very jealous of him, he thought, standing in the Headmaster's Office, looking over a world of battle and adventure.

But that Jaune Arc would have no conception of what he was actually here for. To negotiate with the Headmaster on behalf of Mother…

He looked to the Headmaster. He looked rather unassuming, an older, gentlemanly type with a cane, glasses, and scarf. Hardly the legendary warrior of his reputation, and yet… Jaune felt a sense of _awe _in meeting the man. He _was _a legend, he'd heard enough from Mother that she considered him their chiefest and most dangerous enemy, and Jaune could tell that the man he was standing before was every inch of Mother's description.

"Mr. Arc," he began, and Jaune struggled to hold back a _twitch _as he heard that name, "Our meeting is unorthodox and unusual, but… I believe it is important to extend an olive branch. To show good faith. Even to parties I have seen little proof of their good intent."

Jaune did cringe at that—he knew Mother had attempted to kill Ozpin more than once, and… he knew the real reason he was here. But if he could prove his good faith, if he could win _diplomatically, _Mother would see that he was _capable _of doing things a new way! That hope buoyed him as Ozpin continued.

"So I've agreed to speak with you. But there is an Atlesian Specialist in the hospital. A family that has been _traumatized. _Mr. Arc: for the safety of my students, I must insist-"

"Please!" Jaune interrupted him, knowing that was an impolitic move, but he had to act! "My sister… I need you to know that she meant no harm yesterday. She was frightened, she was panicked, and she _deeply _regrets her actions. I… would offer the fullest apologies to the Schnee family, to the Specialist who was injured, and to the Kingdom of Atlas. I'm prepared to offer a statement of apology, or any other gesture of regret that you and the Committee might consider appropriate."

Ozpin leaned back in his seat

"A statement?" he asked, his eyes frustratingly hard to read.

Blake would know what to do here. Even Weiss, on one of her good days, would know better than him, but Jaune had no choice but to bowl on ahead.

"Yes. A full apology. Delivered in person, if you think it's wise, on my hands and knees if necessary. Whatever it takes, I want them to know that Weiss _did not mean any harm. _That she was… that she was scared. And that she feels bad about what happened."

Silence. Ozpin now leaned forward, the cogwheels turning all about him made him the very image of pensive thought as he searched for his words.

"I don't believe," he began, slowly, "such a gesture, though noble, would be wise. Especially from what I know of the Queen. But… I will convey your message to the Committee and Councils, and suggest that, perhaps..."

Ozpin steepled his fingers as he gave a wistful look out the window.

"Perhaps we don't understand you as well as we might think. Though you should understand: this is a fraught time. And we have many reasons to be suspicious."

Jaune nodded.

That was true: Parents Night had been an unmitigated disaster, and he knew that Mother had done _much _worse in the past. But Jaune knew that coming in. And he'd prepared a gesture he'd hoped would show his sincerity, even with that past.

"Headmaster Ozpin," he began, "I… understand that you're a descendant of King Ozma."

"That is… true."

Jaune noticed the way the Headmaster's fingers subtly _tightened _on his cane. If he was Blake or Emerald, he'd be able to read his stance and tell if a strike was coming. If he was Pyrrha, he'd know how to counter it. But he was Jaune, and all he knew was to try and do the right thing.

He took a deep breath, and then spoke.

"I believe… I believe this belongs to you, sir."

And then he reached into the Darkness, into the primeval depths, and summoned an orb. Pyrrha had taught him this trick, and while he hated using it, the discomforting, oily _feel _it left across his skin, he knew it was the only way he could get away with this. He reached into the orb and felt his fingers wrap around the hilt of a sword, warm to the touch, and he pulled it forth.

It was a magnificent blade, a work of unparalleled craftsmanship. Pyrrha had given it a look of reverential awe when she handled it, admiring its weight, balance, and, despite its considerable age, sharpness. It was an artifact from an era of magic, from Mother's time. The Headmaster's eyes went wide as Jaune carefully gripped the sword by the blade and offered the hilt to him.

He had no words, just gawking in abject amazement.

"How..." he finally murmured, possibly to himself more than Jaune.

"Mother… presented it to me. Told me it was a Royal weapon, a suitable tool for the Prince of the Grimm. But I don't want to be a conqueror. I don't seek to kill or fight. I _do,_" and he gave his voice as much insistence as he could, "want peace. And I want to make things right. It belongs to King Ozma's descendants. It has always belonged with you. Not with his enemies."

And the Headmaster took the sword, raising the blade like he knew it intimately, like it was an extension of his arm. And he looked to Jaune with a look of awed humility and gratitude.

"I have known… I have known the Queen for a very long time..." Ozpin said, slowly, "and I have to admit… I did not expect such a gesture from one she raised. You have my gratitude, Prince Jaune of the Grimmlands. This is not a kindness I will overlook."

**Did Ozma actually have a sword? Well, in this fic, he did. For situations that can't be solved with a magic staff. But for the fic, it's a potent magical artifact that Jaune just handed back to its original wielder and that might have some ramifications in the long run, but it was _also _a very nice thing for Jaune to do, and that might have ramifications in the long run.**

**In spite of her voiced disapproval, Amber did take Qrow's bet after breakfast and now has 20 lien riding on proving that Jaune and Cinder are not romantically engaged.**

**And wow, thanks for 200 Faves and 300 Followers! Deeply grateful for my audience, and I hope you enjoy Act 2! And thanks to Renarde and DanishVulkanHestan for their feedback and notes on this chapter!**


	7. The Unbreakable Yang Xiao Long

Mother would _not _be pleased about the sword.

Jaune was, even as he left the Headmaster's office alongside the man, already starting to feel a little antsy about having done what he did. He knew going into this that there would be… there would be consequences. Consequences that made his nerves tingle and his stomach roil with fear, but… he had to do it. It was the right thing. There were things worth suffering for. And suffering that helped those he loved was always worth it. He suffered because he loved, and it was always worth it, he reminded himself.

But he was so lost in those thoughts he hadn't realized that Cinder was now beside him, meeting him right outside the elevator to the Headmaster's office. "My Prince..." she started, her voice startling him to awareness by how uncharacteristically icy—well, not that uncharacteristic. But she _never_ addressed _him_ in this tone. "May I have a moment of your time? It's _urgent._"

"Oh! Y-yes, of course, Cinder, whatever you need."

She pulled him away to a side room and, after a quick check for listening devices, got close to him, and, in a harsh whisper, began, "I told you, I would do everything in my power to protect your sisters."

"I- I don't blame you! The incident with Weiss and Emerald couldn't have been your-"

"It's not _your _blame I'm worried about," she snapped, "Your _sisters, _however, have made it quite clear that any more incidents would mean the loss of my _head."_

The words chilled his blood. "I- I'm sure..."

But he wasn't sure what to say. He knew Pyrrha and Blake were… protective of all of them, especially Weiss, but none of this had been _Cinder's _fault! But he also knew that if he took Cinder's side against his sisters, especially with how fraught things were _now..._

"Jaune, I..." and then she shocked him as she wrapped her arms around him and rested her face against his chest, "This doesn't come… easy to me, but… I need your help. _Please._"

And Jaune, who had always been powerless to refuse to help someone in need, could only pull her into his own hug. "I'll… I'll help. I promise."

"I _need _your protection, Jaune," she begged, "I- I'm human. You, your sisters, the _Queen… _I can't stand against any of those. Without your protection..." she let the implication hang as her voice fearfully trailed off.

"I promise. You have my protection, as Prince of the Grimm."

He didn't know what that meant. What he was going to do. But he couldn't do nothing. Not when she was so afraid.

She held him, and Jaune had never realized how small Cinder was. She'd always seen so much older, smarter, so much more in control, but he realized that his vision of her was permanently informed by their first meeting, when he was only ten. She was probably just a teenager then, probably not even older than they were now, and yet, she'd seemed so worldly and advanced, so in control, he'd never really thought of her as someone who could ever _be _scared.

As she released herself from his embrace, Jaune watched as, wiping a tear from her eye, Cinder seemed to morph back to her usual composed self. She took a deep breath, then looked him in the eye. "I… appreciate your kindness, my Prince. Allow me to escort you to class."

Jaune followed behind her in silence, pondering what had just happened. He'd always been the responsible one, who sat, alone, with Mother and faced her terrible anger because his sister's _needed _someone to stand up for them. He had been a child then, more bravado than courage and not a _clue _what he was doing other than knowing that he couldn't sit by as they all starved in misery.

But he was an adult now. And while false courage alone might have been sufficient to impress Mother enough to properly feed and clothe them, Jaune was now tangled in grown up matters. Returning Ozma's sword to his descendant. Pledging to protect his friend from his family. He knew these were problems where he couldn't just be bold and it'd all work out. He needed to be smart, to be subtle, to… know that people, people he cared about, were going to lose, in spite of his best efforts. When dealing with Mother, Jaune knew that she, deep down, in her own way, cared for them. And once her anger was expended, by the time he would be released from The Hole, when the terrors passed and he could make sense of things again, she _always _gave in.

Here, though, he couldn't count that his willingness to suffer would be enough.

That was his thought as Cinder opened the door and led him into the classroom, where his sisters respectfully rose from their seats and Jaune could feel every eye trained on him. The Darkness inside him was the least of his siblings, but he could still _taste _the fear he inspired. And as much as he _hated _being an object of anyone's fear, as much as he wished to be a bringer of comfort and peace… he couldn't deny: it felt _good._

He took his seat beside Pyrrha, who gave an appreciative nod before returning to her seat, as Professor Goodwitch continued addressing the class, explaining that there would be a _highly supervised _opportunity for a practice spar between the students and the claimed. Which was a decision Jaune hadn't been thrilled with, but he'd had a good talk with Weiss the night before, and trusted she'd gotten all the fright out of her system. It'd probably go just like when Hazel tried to teach her self-defense. She got _thwacked _by a stick and ran up to the roof of the castle until Jaune could coax her back down, promising that she didn't have to learn any more self-defense.

Or… it could go like when Tyrian tried to teach her self-defense and she tore both his arms clean off. Granted, they were prosthetics, but still, the metal splintered as her tentacles _wrenched _the whole arms out of their sockets.

Maybe… maybe it would be better if Weiss _didn't _fight today.

But before he could say anything, Professor Goodwitch made her announcement. "I would like to see… Yang Xiao Long, and-" she was cut off by a roar from the crowd. There were hoots and cheers and he was pretty sure he heard them chanting something like "Team Yearn" and "Unbreakable" as a confident-looking girl with a powerful build and a big head of blonde hair stepped forward to the ring. Professor Goodwitch and her exchanged a nod, before the professor looked to where Jaune was seated with his sisters. "I would like Ms. Xiao Long to face Blake Belladonna."

_"__No!" _Jaune cried before he even realized that he was saying anything. As composed as she was, Jaune could _feel_ Blake take the sound of her former name like a lash, and he knew she was eager to repay that favor in the ring. Blake was the weakest of his sisters, even though a much more capable fighter than he was, but she was also dangerous in a way the others weren't. Pyrrha left nothing of her opponents, Emerald did not give them an opportunity to resist, but Blake… Blake toyed with her prey. She was cunning, and always had an angle to work, and Jaune knew that she would _relish _the chance to make an example of the poor girl.

He realized that, thanks to his outburst, all eyes were now on him. "I..." he tried to sound princely, magisterial. He hoped he wasn't failing, "As Prince of the Grimm, I would challenge Ms. Xiao Long."

There were audible gasps around the hall as Jaune removed his stupid cape, for once appreciating it for giving him the chance to dramatically punctuate his challenge.

"My Prince," Pyrrha stood up beside him, "I am your Eagle, let me be your Sword and handle this. She is _beneath _you."

"Pyrrha," he whispered, "you'll kill her."

Pyrrha paused. "I… I could show restraint. If you asked it of me."

That was true. And she clearly desired to be given such an order. But Jaune knew… He was here on a diplomatic mission. Even though he knew Mother would be perfectly happy if the mission failed, he was _formally _to seek peace between their people and that's what he wanted, more than anything. And his sisters… He could easily picture each and every one of them utterly annihilating this poor girl, humiliating her in a way that would fill the whole school with such pure _terror _it would make peace almost impossible. They'd already pulled their mission out of one crisis, he didn't need to turn around and cause another.

"I'll be fine," he told her, and shot her his best grin. It seemed to inspire something in her, and she blushed, giving him a faint smile back. "Would you mind if I borrowed a sword?"

And Pyrrha _gasped_ at that, but dutifully summoned a black, shimmering orb, a connection through the Darkness that led to her Armory. Jaune plunged his hand inside, feeling his fingers wrap around the hilt of a long, heavy blade that he pulled forth from the orb.

A hush fell over the room as the crowd watched as Jaune pulled his blade out of thin air. Long, heavy, and largely undecorated, it was the kind of sword that he felt suited him, much more than Ozma's magical blade or any of the other well-crafted, elegant swords Mother kept presenting him with. This was more a slab of steel than a cutting edge, but the weight felt good in his hands as he went to the ring. "Show your strength," Pyrrha had advised him, "Half the battle is fought before the first swing is even made." He tried to walk with a self-confident swagger, but with all eyes on him, it was hard not to feel self-conscious instead.

"Ms. Xiao Long," he said to his foe, giving a gentle bow, "I hope I can prove to be a worthy opponent."

"Oh damn," the girl responded, with a challenging grin, "Oh, I think I'm gonna _like _you, Princey."

And then Professor Goodwitch signaled the start of the match.

* * *

They surged forward, both racing to get in the first strike. Jaune was quick, far more powerful than a natural human, but the girl pulled a surprising move, firing her gauntlets behind her to propel her _past _Jaune. Pyrrha could see the trick for what it was, but Jaune's momentum was too much. He swung, missed, and as his sword _smashed _into the ground, the girl sprang forward to crack him square across the jaw.

The stands gasped at that, but Jaune had hardly been dented by the blow. The girl seemed to reel a little, evidently used to a punch like that ending the fight outright. But only for a moment. She leapt back, putting her arms up in a fighting stance as Jaune's sword narrowly missed striking her again.

Jaune, unfortunately, had little skill when it came to swordplay. He had asked her, once, to teach him, and those nights together, teaching him the basics of the blade had been some of her most cherished memories. But then Mother discovered what they were doing (and though she couldn't prove it, Pyrrha was _certain _Emerald had something to do with Mother finding out) and forbade any further training. She said swordplay was _beneath_ the Prince, and Mother had personally gone to Pyrrha and warned her, a warning that still chilled her, that if Jaune mastered the sword, he'd no longer have any use for _her. _

But while Jaune lacked training, he certainly had enthusiasm. He kept up a furious offensive, and Pyrrha admired the primal savagery of his form. This was the Jaune she knew from her secret dreams, his lordly might expressed against a mere human. Yes, she could tell that his opponent was too agile to fall prey to his strikes, but Pyrrha knew, as Jaune got more and more into the fight, what was surely coming next.

There was a great _crack _as the sword, too flimsy for such brute strength, broke apart in his hand. Jaune tossed the useless hilt aside and took a crouching stance towards his opponent.

And then Jaune _roared._

It was the roar of a Beringel, of an Ursa, of the _Prince of the Grimm._ The blood of the Grimm race ran through his veins, and it was now revealed to all. He was, with his eyes burning red, undeniably their brother. The Darkness surged inside her, and she felt it _cheer _within her sisters. And she could taste the sugar-sweet fear of the crowd.

It was beautiful. He threw a punch, his opponent barely able to block it in time and skidding backwards. She was scarcely back on her feet when Jaune pressed the attack, and the two engaged in an all-out brawl. They traded blows without pause, without mercy. The girl cracked him again across the jaw with a haymaker that barely even caused Jaune to _flinch_. He threw out an uppercut that came within an inch of sending the girl _flying _out of the arena. Weiss whooped and cheered, and Emerald called for broken bones as their Prince displayed his might. More strikes exchanged, an incredible display of raw, furious _power._ Jaune slammed a fist into the ground, and the floor _splintered, _something that actually forced Blake to clap a hand over her mouth so nobody could see her ecstatic smile.

To see their Lord Brother truly show his strength to the world… it was electrifying! There was no fear in the fool girl who had thought she could contend with the Prince of the Grimm, but the _crowd… _it was delicious, the taste of their fear, the look of frightened hopelessness, even on their _teacher,_ as they saw that Jaune was a _true _warrior, just as Pyrrha knew he was!

Except… they were both berserkers, trading furious punches that even Pyrrha had to admire for their strength, but this girl, this Yang Xiao Long, never lost control. Pyrrha's trained eye could tell that _Jaune _was not the one directing the fight, the girl was guiding Jaune's movements into _her _patterns. Jaune might be stronger and tougher, but this girl was not normal, and her Semblance seemed to be buoying her strength even as they exchanged blows and slugged it out. And though Emerald cheered and Weiss rocked back and forth with excitement and even Blake was showing an unusual amount of emotion for their brother's victory… Pyrrha could already tell the fight was decided.

Instinct told her to step in, but she knew that Jaune's pride, his honor, demanded that he finish the fight himself. Every part of her called for her to rush in and hurl that girl away, a hundred weak points were present and a hundred weapons at hand, but she had to suppress her bodyguard training and _let _her dear Prince lose. She grit her teeth as she saw his swing go wide as Yang juked back and, with a sudden surge back, she socked him the gut with an uppercut fierce enough to lift Jaune off of his feet.

As he came down, hard, he crumpled, and then…

"And that's the match!" Professor Goodwitch cried, "Victory to Yang Xiao Long!"

There was a silence as the entire audience struggled to grasp what they'd just watched. A refusal to believe for fear that their hopes might be dashed. But then they realized what had happened, and the crowd _erupted_ into jubilant cheers of "Unbreakable! Unbreakable! _Un-break-a-ble!_"

"What… what happened?" Weiss asked, confused, "Why did brother stop? Did he get tired? He- he's okay, right? He- he has to be okay!"

"This..." Blake's voice quaked with barely-repressed fury, "She- she hurt _Jaune. _We can't- We _cannot_ allow this to go unanswered."

"Give the word," Emerald hissed through her teeth, "Just give the word, Pyrrha, and I will _make an example of her._"

"She has to pay," Blake agreed, "She has to-" but she stopped as Pyrrha raised her hand. Her eyes were locked on the scene before her. In the ring, Yang Xiao Long had gone over to their fallen brother… and extended a hand to help him up. There was a smile on her face, broad, gracious, and easy, and, as Jaune got up, she could see a matching pair on his own lips. A little embarrassed at his loss, but… when had she last seen him so genuinely happy?

Had she ever made him that happy?

She could tell he was talking to her excitedly, and then he gestured up to them. And the girl, this _Yang Xiao Long, _the name contemptible on Pyrrha's tongue, _smiled _at her and waved.

* * *

Blake did not like it when things did not go to plan.

Now that the shock and fury at watching… _that woman, _the cur, lay her hands upon their brother had faded, she was able to look at the problems more rationally. But she had to admit, things had not been going well. Most pressingly, in the eyes of the students, they now seemed beatable, and without an aura of invincibility, the students seemed to realize that the numbers were on their side.

Not that it mattered, tactically. Pyrrha alone could have likely fought the entire school and come out on top. She was the Eagle, and even without an army to lead, she _was_ an army, their Prince's _might._ Even the Silver Eyed Warrior on their security detail likely couldn't defeat Pyrrha. She was second in this world to Mother alone, and sometimes, Blake wondered about that.

But the reality of a fight didn't matter if the fight never happened. What mattered was that the students of Beacon—and, thanks to the Vytal, the top students of _all Remnant—_thought they were weak. Blake knew that a perception of weakness could be a tool—her former parents certainly used it often enough—but they were off kilter from watching that… that _peasant _have the audacity to strike their Prince… it infuriated her. Enraged her so much that she wanted to bare her teeth, all of them, and remind these children who their betters were.

She consoled herself, told her that Jaune was handling a charm offensive for them, making the people of Remnant feel like they were not a threat, so that they might accept their rule, but Blake _hated _this strategy, and just wanted Pyrrha to crush that blonde whore like an insect before the entire student body, or to send Emerald out, see how pretty she was, if she'd _smile _at their Jaune like that after Emerald was done with her. But they were ordered not to act. And so she had to sit and feel a room of people _not _be afraid of her.

And it was being made so much worse right now.

"What happened next! What happened next!" Weiss exclaimed, practically rocking back and forth in her seat.

"Gwahahaha!" the oafish _moron _who was supposedly an expert on "Grimm Studies" boomed, "What the Emperor Taijutu, even as rare and massive as he was, didn't realize was that a true Huntsman's real weapon isn't made of metal, their real strength isn't in their bulging muscles..." and Blake braced herself for whatever idiotic platitude was about to come forth as Weiss leaned forward in rapt amazement, "It's in our courage!"

"Wow!"

"It's true!" the fat man proclaimed, with a great sweep of his arm, "And what's more, I sense that same courage within you, young lady."

"Really?" She gasped, incredulously. Blake shot a nervous glance to her sisters—Pyrrha and Emerald seemed appropriately aghast. But Jaune seemed pleased to indulge Weiss's… more childish fancies, so Blake knew that there was nothing to be done about this. Even as Weiss became more and more enraptured at the possibility of _becoming one of their fundamental enemies. _"I could be a Huntress?"

"It'd be unorthodox, but all the best Huntsmen are! Because," and he struck a pose he surely must have thought looked heroic, "Courage knows no race, or nation, or creed, or gender, or ability! It's what's in here!" and he rapped his knuckles against his chest, a gesture Weiss mirrored.

And all around the room, she could see the eyes of Remnant's Huntsmen-in-Training, their future _greatest enemies_ and they could all see… an excitable little girl getting suckered by a blowhard's moronic, self-indulgent stories.

"I just know she's going to ask me," Emerald grumbled under her breath, "to abduct him and take him back home when it's time to leave."

"Oh gods," Blake moaned, "could you imagine? We already have the _one _Watts."

Pyrrha leaned over and grunted, "Don't forget… we're getting dinner with the faculty tonight, so..."

"We'll have to get a whole nother dose of his stories," Emerald completed.

Blake groaned at the thought. But… at the least, Weiss seemed happy. And so did Jaune, especially seeing how much the idiot was improving her mood.

Jaune…

When they had started planning this trip, Jaune had insisted, had even fought with Mother on it, that they would be there as a diplomatic envoy, here to build a connection with the Kingdoms of Remnant. It was a… naive hope, surely one Mother had no interest in pursuing, but Jaune had been so insistent on it, that he'd actually managed to win a few concessions, even enough to have Mother put _him,_ rather than Ms. Fall, in charge of the delegation.

And because it was a matter of diplomacy, Jaune had turned to Blake for help. Had spent many late nights with her pouring over his plans _with her. _She was the prioritized sister, even more than _Pyrrha, _and it had been _intoxicating. _It was difficult to accept that, yes, Weiss _probably _should be seated at Jaune's side right now, after the day she'd had yesterday, but when she could have that closeness, that _immediacy, _the chance to whisper in his ear what he _needed to know _about Beacon, about the faculty, about their _situation… _

Sometimes, it was frustrating being the peacemaker.

She felt _responsible _for everyone. Pyrrha was their protector, the one woman Blake knew she could count on to face _any _danger in the world… possibly even Mother, if it came to it (and the Darkness still _disapproved _of such treacherous thoughts, even though she'd long since fought it down inside her), but Pyrrha did not _understand _the softer and subtler sides of protection. When Weiss overheard Mr. Rainart refer to them as _monsters, _it would do no good to tear the man's throat out, as much as he may have had it coming. No, Weiss needed to be comforted, to be reassured that she was fine, to be _held,_ and then Blake would steal Mr. Rainart's boots and let Weiss eat them.

And for the big matters, Jaune would swoop in, like he did yesterday, like he'd done _so many times _in their lives, always the Hero they needed. But he couldn't be there for everything, and every problem Blake kept from reaching Jaune's ears was a problem he didn't have to fret about. A night he could sleep more easily. And that meant all the world to Blake, even if he never knew how much she did to protect him.

That's what made planning this trip so _special. _For once, she could actually flex her intellectual might and be _appreciated _for it. She drank in his praise, his _attention, _and she knew… she knew that when the two of them were ruling Remnant, it would _truly _be beautiful. The world would be orderly and peaceful and the five of them would finally be _safe. _

Blake murmured happily, imagining what life would be like when the assembled leaders of the Kingdoms would bow before their rightful King, until Weiss's excited voice jolted her back to the present.

"But what about if a Grimm's not doing anything wrong, and just being friendly?"

"Like a riding Ursa!" a nauseatingly cheerful girl _immediately _chimed in.

"Yeah!" Weiss cheered, "Like, if it's just giving me rides places, do I have to fight it?"

And as the "professor" attempted to bumble his way through some inane answer, Blake glanced to Jaune. He was _happy, _happy that Weiss was happy, happy that things were well. And, Blake reminded herself, she could bear some discomfort. So long as it made Jaune happy.

She would do _anything _for him.

**Yang Xiao Long is the last "main" character of this story, and, growing up under Summer and Tai, she's taking a bit of a different path from her canon self. She's still a brash, self-confident girl who likes to have fun and goof off, but at the same time, she's a much more mature figure, a lot less unresolved childhood anger, and also, she's a damn scary fighter. Summer trained her, Tai and Qrow never fell apart like they did in canon, and the circumstances of the Separation mean that Yang grew up in a world heavily investing in Huntresses. She's the favorite to win the Vytal, and there's a reason Goodwitch selected her to be the one test the combat ability of the claimed.**

**A lot of comments were wondering what powers, exactly, Jaune has. But one of the things with this chapter is that Jaune's actually pretty powerful—Canon Yang in Vol. 3 almost certainly couldn't beat him if she tried to rely on her Semblance and brute force. He's strong as _hell,_ physically stronger than most of his sisters, however, he doesn't actually know how to fight. So Yang was able to outmaneuver him until she wore him down and saw her opening. Overall, Jaune has very few gifts from the Darkness, especially in comparison to his sisters, because he did his best to fight it off when he was submerged in it. But he's also literally the only person to have personally stood up to Salem and survived her wrath (Well, depends if Ozpin counts as "survived," I guess) and has strengths that make the difference when the ability to turn men into ghosts won't work. Like Blake was musing, there's more to strength than the power to kill people.**

**Also, for this scene, I like having a sense of what music I associate with the fight for picturing it and pacing it out. And for this, I have Yang having a style that's playful, quick, but still with some hints of refinement and elegance, so I was thinking the Chinese two-stringed fiddle, the erhu, and a song like "Sai Ma," for a sense of her quick punches. But I also like for her larger character, it's definitely "Take It Off" by The Donnas. ****For Jaune, the music for him throwing down just needed to be loud and hollering, so I was thinking AC/DC's "Thunderstruck." Just a little bit of my process.  
**


	8. Opportunity Knocks

She wasn't like her sisters.

Blake had told her that she belonged, that she _was _her sister, but "belonging" meant more to Emerald than just her family. Just as Blake told her, she was the Shrike, the bloody-handed one who carried out her Prince's justice. And her Prince had been wronged. And the call for Justice was hot.

And yet… they did nothing.

And that was the worst feeling. Not that the insult had been unanswered, no. And though Emerald was worried that Jaune had been hurt, he had insisted he was fine and they weren't to worry about him. No, Emerald's problem was that this was _her_ moment, her opportunity to play her role, and she… wasn't.

Because Jaune didn't want her to.

Because Jaune didn't want her.

And that thought sent a surge of panic down her spine. Emerald wasn't like Pyrrha or Blake, she didn't like her brother in that gross boy-girl way, but she needed, _needed _to be useful to him. Even _that _use, gross as it was, would give her _something _of value to offer him! If she wasn't… she was still reeling from the fears that she was just the fake, the substitute for the real Emerald, even though Blake had reassured her she _was _her sister, but if Jaune had no use for her… then she didn't even want to contemplate that.

And she knew that Jaune's commitment to diplomacy was difficult for her. She and Pyrrha had, in one of their rare sisterly moments, commiserated about it together. They'd been out, hunting Grimm as a training exercise, but really just camping together. Not like most Grimm were a threat to Emerald, much less Pyrrha. It was tense, the first few days, but she remembered having a night where the two of them had what, for them, was a heart to heart.

That night had been really nice, the two of them sitting around the fire. They'd roasted marshmallows Emerald had smuggled along for the trip and talked about how Emerald could sow chaos and disunity in Remnant's armies in advance of Pyrrha leading the Grimm Horde to crash down upon them like an unstoppable tide. It was good to know Emerald wasn't the only one struggling with how eager she was to just get started and _serve their Prince!_ She wished she and Pyrrha were closer. It really sucked that they weren't! But if Pyrrha wouldn't reach out to her, she wasn't going to be the first to admit she missed how close they used to be. And how close they _could _be, if they were just allowed to carry out their _purpose._

That was the worst part. Emerald _knew_ she had a role, a place in her family. She _was_ the Shrike, and her skills astounded even Ms. Fall. She was a master of disguise, poison, assassination, deception, whatever she needed to carry out her Prince's Justice! They just weren't being used _now, _not with the purpose she longed for, what she knew she was capable of. She'd already experienced a taste of what it was like, to move in one purpose with her sisters and to let the Darkness guide them.

His name had been Geryon, and he was cruel. Ambitious. Emerald had been trained by Ms. Fall early on to read the darkness that dwelt in the hearts of men, and she could see the wicked desire traced across his face, the jealousy that drove him to dangerous thoughts. He was one of their "tutors," and he worshiped Mother like a goddess, like Professor Callows, but Geryon coveted Jaune's authority, his closeness to power. He was rash. Jaune had been hurt. He claimed it was an accident.

They knew it was a lie.

Action needed to be taken. They all agreed. Jaune was hurt and Mother had indulged Geryon's excuse. He would act again if they did not stop him. And there was _worse _he was capable of. She could see it in his face and in his heart that his desire had only grown. The risk could not be _allowed._

Weiss held him down. Blake pronounced the sentence. Pyrrha told him this was the merciful way. And Emerald conducted justice.

It had only taken a moment, but it was a memory she cherished. The four of them, together in one purpose, and Emerald truly _belonged _with her sisters. They had done their duty, they had protected their brother from harm, just as he protected them from Mother.

She always remembered the day. March 9th. It was a special day for two reasons. For bringing all of them together and because it was the last day of her childhood. The 10th was her birthday, and the next day, Jaune had baked her her own chocolate cake and told her she was a teenager now. That night had, in truth, been her first step into adulthood.

That was what she wanted. Her fondest wish was that she could do that again, but this time, on her brother's orders. He would call for the destruction of the Kingdoms, and let _loose_ his Birds of Prey! Weiss would summon the Grimm, Pyrrha would lead his armies, Blake would tell them where to strike, and Emerald would deliver him the heads of his enemies. It was her greatest regret that Geryon's head had to be secretly disposed of with the rest of him, rather than presented to her brother as a trophy. But… Jaune did not like violence or killing or…

She tried not to think down that path. Jaune liked her, he told her he liked her, he said he liked her just fine as she was. He did lots of things to make her feel special! Unless… it was just pity. Maybe he played with her just because Blake told him Emerald, whiny, needy Emerald, needed a consolation. Or _Pyrrha… _sometimes she hated Pyrrha. She hated how _perfect _Pyrrha was. How powerful and cool and _amazing _she was all the time without even trying. She knew Pyrrha thought she was better than her, and she hated the thought that Jaune was only nice to her because _Pyrrha _felt bad for her. Weiss was nice to her, but that didn't count, cause Weiss was nice to _everybody._

Sometimes, it felt like Ms. Fall was the only one who actually liked her. And maybe Ms. Fall would tell Jaune, once she was Queen… maybe she'd tell him how useful Emerald was? And he would finally use her the way she'd spent her whole life training to be used, the way the Darkness called to her.

But some days, it felt like their marriage was _ages_ away.

But she could fix that. Like right now, Ms. Fall had given her a critically important task that had her slipping out of Beacon and hitching a ride on a Bullhead to travel into Vale. She _thrilled _at tasks like these, that let her make use of her skills to act autonomously, to blend in to normal society where her siblings couldn't and act on her own recognizance, to do what needed doing without waiting for orders from anybody.

But as she found her way to the bar where she was supposed to pick up a _crucial _data disk from Roman, she realized… well, this could be fun. Ms. Fall just said this was a quick pick-up-and-go mission, but she did tell her this would be a good chance to start burnishing her identity as a force in the criminal underworld...

There was security everywhere, but come on. She was the Shrike. She and Blake used to have _legendary _games of Hide and Seek. And, yeah, Blake was _allowed_ to use her shadow powers, _that's _how good Emerald was at Hide and Seek. And then they started to raise the challenge. Blake had spent a day stalking Jaune without his notice, so Emerald one-upped her by spending a day stalking Professor Callows, and then Blake spent a day following _Mother…_ for which they got caught. And Jaune got punished. And so they… didn't play games like that anymore.

But she wasn't going to get sad! Not right now, not when she could eavesdrop. She snuck her way past a couple of chump guards, making sure to leave them a calling card of… she hadn't planned a calling card, so she slipped some gravel in their pockets. They'd get it later. And besides, Emerald was riding a high and didn't have time to care about the little things. She had just slipped right past _Neopolitan! _It took all of Emerald's skill _not _to squee and give her hiding spot away. She was fangirling so hard, she just had to stop for a while and watch as the master toyed with an enforcer who'd been skimming in the back alley. Emerald couldn't help but stare—Neopolitan was so cool and elegant and stylish and pretty and just so… so… _awesome!_ She could _taste _her victim's fear, and, oh, Neo was _everything _Emerald wanted to be when she grew up!

Moving along, she found a window that gave her a good visual on her target. She started eavesdropping, listening as Roman… yeah, he was talking about her!

"...gotta hand a data disk over to Cinder's lackey, and I gotta be on my best behavior, or you best believe there won't be enough of me left to identify," he grumbled and Emerald silently cheered. Ms. Fall was so badass, even _Roman Torchwick _was terrified of her!

"She's one of the claimed, ain't she?" the bartender grunted, "Scary shit, if that Queen's brainwashing kids… what was she like?"

"Junior…" he searched for his words as Emerald leaned in to hear _exactly _how scary she was, "she rattled off my arrest statistics like she collected my rookie cards. It was… it was weird. _Neo _thought it was weird, and that should tell you something."

Emerald's heart sank. They… they thought she was weird? _Neopolitan _thought she was… weird? She thought… she thought they'd like that she'd prepared for the meeting. That she thought they were super cool…

No, she wasn't going to cry. Emerald wasn't a crybaby, and she didn't care what some two-bit pickpocket thought about her! She was going to show them all that Emerald the Shrike was way cooler and way more totally dangerous than they knew what to do with!

Slipping back to the front door, she walked into the club, feeling all the eyes turn to her. It made her feel nervous, but that was okay. She was allowed to be a little nervous. She just had to stay in charge. She just focused on staying in charge and looking cool as she walked up to the bar and sidled up next to Roman Torchwick.

"I'll have a whisky," she said to the bartender, all casual and cool like.

"Neat? On the rocks?"

Shit.

"I… the first one. That's how I… like my whiskies..." Yeah, she'd handled that one. Still cool. Still casual. Still in charge.

The bartender poured her a… glass? of whisky and passed it to her. Keeping her eyes on Roman, she took it… and downed it.

Oh, that had been a mistake. It tasted _awful, _like… like fire! Emerald could ingest things that a normal human couldn't, but this was- _yuck! _No, she had to be cool! Had to… act like she always drank whiskies. "So, I- _KAFF,_" she was interrupted by a cough she couldn't suppress. "I- _KAFF, HACK,_" oh no, she was tearing up now!

Oh no. He was judging her. She wasn't scaring him and he'd tell Ms. Fall and Ms. Fall would tell Jaune and Jaune would… Jaune would know that she was his _useless _sister. She felt the tears coming but she knew she couldn't cry. She couldn't cry in front of the criminals!

She squeezed her eyes shut childishly, trying to make them all go away or stop looking at her. But she knew it wouldn't work, and… and the act of closing her eyes reminded her of what Ms. Fall always told her. _"You are the Shrike. You are far scarier than anything else you'll encounter at Beacon." _Yes… yes, she was scary. She could be scary!

Opening her eyes, she saw the mockingly piteous look Roman was giving her. Well, he liked looking at her, then… she didn't have a clever retort, but she opened eyes, hundreds of them, on every inch of her skin, and Roman's eyes went very wide in the second before he fell off his barstool. Not so tough now! And then she closed them- _Ow! _Ugh, it always hurt when she went from multiple eyes back down to two, and-

No, she had to be cool. And intimidating! "I want your hat!" she shouted over the sudden panic in the room.

"What the _fuck!"_ he replied, though probably not to what she was requesting.

She made dozens of tentacles erupt from her back. She heard screams as Vale's criminal underworld couldn't flee the scene fast enough. Roman attempted to scoot backwards as fast as he could, but he was trapped against the wall, terrified.

"I _said,_" she growled, putting a bit of Ursa into her vocal chords, _"I want your hat."_

He snatched it off his head and threw it to her, and Emerald caught it, putting it on her own head. It was a little too big for her, and, also, she didn't really want the hat. And she realized that the bar was now empty of everyone except for her and Roman, so she nervously took the hat off and pressed it back into the now-boneless hands of the wildly terrified Roman.

"I don't, um, actually want the hat," she admitted. "Could you, umm..." she trailed off nervously, "Could you, um, please tell Ms. Fall that I did a good job? That I was, um, really scary and in control?"

Roman looked at her incredulously. Finding his voice, he replied, "Yeah, I… I think I can tell her that."

She let out a long exhale, "Oh, _thank you, _I was really worried I was messing this all up. Thanks!"

And then as she turned to leave, trying to walk out all cool and _not _skip, she- she suddenly whirled around and raced back to Roman. "A-And I need that data disk!"

* * *

Yang basically collapsed on her bed when she got back. Damn, it was good to _finally _get back to her dorm, especially after the day she'd just had.

Ever since Goodwitch's class in the morning, Yang had been _bombarded _with attention and compliments, people amazed at her feat of strength. And yeah, she was thrilled she went head-to-head with the Prince of the Grimm (the freaking _Prince of the Grimm!_), saw him go all Beast Mode, and _won. _But she was really exhausted by all the hero worship and, worse, the fact that she didn't get a chance to just stop and think, when she was full of questions about how the fight went down.

The weird thing was… it really wasn't that hard of a fight?

The Prince was strong, _much _stronger than she was, and Yang would give him credit, he was tough as hell. But that was the case with most big Grimm. And he really wasn't an experienced fighter. Sure, the _roar _had scared her half to death, and he'd gone _all out,_ but she knew to keep her cool, and she pretty quickly realized that she just had to lead him around until he gave her an opening to really let him have it. He was a tough fight, but not this unstoppable monster people seemed to be expecting. Frankly, she figured most of her team could beat him, if they played smart, stayed dodgy, and caught on to his deal.

And that got her thinking. Yang was a lot more than a pretty face, a pair of fists, and a rockin' bod. There was a reason she was the leader of Team YRRN. Sure, she might not be like her little sis, acing tests and being every teacher's favorite student, but unlike Ruby, Yang was capable of having a conversation with a stranger where at no point would she pull her weapon out. And Yang more than surpassed that low bar when it came to social skills. She was sociable, popular, a trendsetter, and a leader. And, thanks to Ruby, she was an expert in interpreting people who had no social skills whatsoever.

Such as the Grimm bunch.

Prince Jaune had just seemed thrilled to have had a real fight—she suspected that he was relieved to _finally _be treated like something other than royal perfection, and, Yang had to admit, he was a surprisingly cool guy, considering he was literally The Enemy. But as she helped him up, she caught a glimpse of his sisters… she did not make a friend over there, not at all.

And they were _intense. _This wasn't just national pride, if they could be said to have a nation, or dismay at losing, no, those girls were _murderous. _Like they caught her making out with their boyfriend, not like she bested their brother in a training match. But that reminded Yang of the way the redhead, the _real _fucking scary-looking one, had spoke when Jaune volunteered. "Let me be your sword" and all.

Who _talked _like that?

But that gave her some perspective on them: they were weird kids. And that made sense, didn't it? They were basically a bunch of kidnapped children who were raised in isolation by the enemy of all life—that is _not _the recipe for a normally-functioning adult. But that wasn't their fault, and Yang clearly saw the right thing to do would be to try and help them _feel _normal and less like outsiders. And they seemed to _want _that. Prince Jaune certainly seemed like a likable guy, and clearly looked like he wanted a friend.

And the rest of the day's classes kind of underscored it. Like in Port's, where, for once, somebody actually _encouraged_ his loud windbaggery. Which, she knew, they'd be paying for for years, but that girl was so _earnest, _so full of childlike naivete and wonder that Yang had to remind herself that this girl was as old as she was. But then her eyes sparkled as she asked for more stories, and Yang had made up her mind: that girl was _adorable. _She had a lot of Ruby energy, the way she was so breathlessly fascinated with heroism.

And then in Oobleck's class, the dark-haired Faunus girl spent the whole class debating the professor about the ramifications of… honestly, Yang was pretty sure it wasn't in the textbook. Not that she'd read the chapter, but even _Ren _seemed out of his depth with their debate, so she was pretty sure the girl was talking about stuff that nobody other than Oobleck knew about.

These kids were raised in the Grimmlands, without anyone other than their siblings (_Were_ they siblings? Since they were all from other countries and all. Or did this count as adoption? Does it still count as adoption when they were kidnapped? She'd have to ask around about that) for company. For the first time, probably ever, they had a chance to socialize with someone who they hadn't known for 15 years. And yet, they'd never socialized with anyone new in 15 years, so they didn't know how. A conundrum.

"Ren, take a note."

Her partner didn't even look up from his book. "I am not your secretary."

"Nora says otherwise."

He sighed, knowing the fight was lost. He flipped open his notebook and grabbed a pen. "Go ahead."

"The Grimm kids are here on a mission of peace, _however, _there's no way to achieve that peace without conversation. _But, _that conversation is impeded because, even though I kicked the Prince's ass, everyone's still afraid of them and they have no social skills to speak of. Ergo, vis-a-vis, heretofore, we should have them over for a party. QED, we will- Ren, I don't hear writing."

She looked over to her shocked partner, who stared at her agape until he slowly found his words. "You… want to have them over… for a party?"

"Yeah?" she replied, "My mom's the head of the security detail, she could _totally _make it happen if we ask her. We'll invite CFVY, put some music on, Nora and Yats will arm wrestle, have one of the Grimm kids take winner, it'll be fun!"

"You want… a party. With them."

"Come on, this is barely even a Nora-level crazy plan. You're not going to be able to tell me no on this."

Ren pressed his fingers to his temple the way he did when his girlfriend suggested they try to "catch their own riding Ursas" or "I bet Yang could throw you onto that Nevermore." Which, frankly, was a little insulting—she was just suggesting they be _good hosts! _But Ren lowered his hands and looked at her gravely. "Yang… I know most of the school's making a point to show how _not _afraid we are of them, but… Yang, they're _part Grimm. _They're clearly not human anymore, and… Yang, you don't know how dangerous they could be."

Ugh. Ren was being _sensible. _And yeah, he did have a point, but… "Listen, I hear where you're coming from and I _get _it, but there's times when you've just gotta be fearless and take a risk. They're _kids, _Ren, they're like us, and-"

"We are legally adults, Yang. So are they."

"Pfft, I don't file taxes, and I don't got a mortgage. I play video games and watch cartoons while stressing about tests. Not an adult yet, and you can't make me." Ren rolled his eyes, "But that's my point! Do we know anything about these Grimm kids? Maybe they just need someone on our side to reach out, to try and "

"Have you seen the way they look at you?"

"Pfft," she snorted. Though, yeah, they'd been a little north of "murderous" so far. Not that she'd give Ren the satisfaction. "They'll get over it. CRDL glared at me for _weeks _after I beat them all down on my own, and now we're all friends!"

"We are not friends with-"

"And now we're all friends!" she said, more insistently this time. "And hey, Team CRDL are dicks! These are just some kids who went through something _terrible_, and I think _you'd_ agree: when we meet people who are in a worse situation than we are, we _owe them_ our help."

Ren looked down, chastened. But Yang saw a small smile creep across his face to hear Yang quote his own words back at him. They were a good partnership—Ren was a calm, methodical type, but he was always committed to doing the right thing. Sometimes Yang needed to be held back and sometimes Ren needed to be pushed forward, but they both had good hearts and the two of them had spent their first year at Beacon learning from each other. "Alright, fair enough, I'm in. And I don't doubt Ruby and Nora are in, too. But now you've got to convince your _mother, _alongside _their _security team, so..."

"So I've just gotta be my charming self and everything will work out!"

"Or you could make a plan. And because I know you're going to just repeat what you just said, only louder, I'm just going to start writing up the arguments that we think would be persuasive."

"You don't… you don't _know _I was going to do that."

"Didn't I?" he cocked an eyebrow to her, "_Didn't I?_"

"You did," she grumbled.

****Thanks to Renarde and Danish for feedback on this chapter!  
****

**Emerald might be my favorite of the claimed to write, but it's honestly a close call, and that ranking changes with every chapter I write. **

**Her March 10 birthday is, of course, a reference to Jiu-jitsu dude's exceptional "A Monster's Marriage." And, just like in that story, the kids didn't actually know their birthdays (Salem doesn't exactly throw them birthday parties), so Jaune assigned them birthdays when they were younger. That's why none of their birthdays are later than the 10th—Jaune didn't know how to count higher than that at the time. The rest are: Jaune: Jan 1st, Pyrrha: Feb 5th, Emerald: March 10th, Blake: April 3rd, Weiss: May 7th. Don't think it'll come up in the story, but there are references hidden in there.**

**People who were wondering if Ruby, Ren, and Nora would be in the story: yes, and there are some scenes coming up with the various human characters that I'm _really _excited to show. But Yang's the primary lead on this, largely because someone brash, social, and outgoing is the perfect counterpoint for the claimed's whole deal. But the rest of her team, like Yang, is a little different because of the different circumstances of the world they grew up in.  
**

**And finally, the last chapter took some unexpected heat for Yang kicking Jaune's ass. And I made my case for why it happened the way it did, but from the response, I decided to take a week off for some objectivity, and come back to the story and see if I might see where the critique is coming from. But to be honest... I still think it was the right decision for this story. Jaune didn't get much from the Pool of Darkness, and that's a good thing. The Grimm powers are a gift of Salem, and I _hope _the story's been clear enough that Salem is bad news and her gifts are not good things. Pyrrha brought it up in Ch. 5 that she got a bum deal, and now she's literally unable to express softness and vulnerability because she's permanently armored. Emerald's a shapeshifter who has multiple levels of identity crises. Jaune's not well, but he's certainly better off to _not _have the powers his sisters have. And that's kind of a central theme of the story, so if you don't like that Jaune comes across as "weak," I have to be honest, you're probably not going to like where I'm taking the rest of the story. That's fine, of course, but just thought the audience should know.**


	9. The Omphalic Scar

**CW: Parental grief and trauma**

"Absolutely _not._"

Summer was clearly too stunned to be angry or, really, have any emotional reaction to what Yang had just proposed, but she certainly had the presence of mind to shoot it down _fast. _Though Qrow had to smile to see his niece so confidently propose the worst idea he'd heard since Tai first asked out his sister.

But of course, Yang was a teenager. And she measured her life with a different standard of _bad idea._ "What? Why?" she asked in, of all things, shocked disbelief.

Summer looked to Qrow, eyes wide, desperately struggling to fit the sum total of all the badness in this idea into something as small as words. So Qrow stepped in to help. "Go easy on your mom, Sundragon. Those 'kids' you want to throw a welcome party for… one of 'em put an Atlesian Specialist in the hospital."

Yang seemed momentarily stunned by that. But only a moment, and then anger took over. "And you let them fight _students!_" she burst out at them.

Summer and Qrow exchanged a glance. Strictly speaking, they hadn't thought it would be… okay, that had been a bad idea. Unambiguously. They had had… a lot of bad ideas. Coming out of the general craziness of everything else and their partial surrender to just riding it out… they probably weren't thinking things through as sensibly as they ought to have been. Frankly, they were at the point where a less-terrible idea was the bar they were shooting to clear. Qrow gave Yang a chastened look."We… assessed them in advance and recommended that Professor Goodwitch only select a manageable opponent."

"Yeah, that mattered a lot when Jaune challenged me."

Jaune? Wait… the Arc's kid? The _Prince? _

"You fought-" he struggled with the words, "You fought the _Prince of the Grimm!_"

"And I whooped his butt," she shrugged, failing to suppress her smug smile, "But it turns out, he's a pretty cool guy and I don't think treating them like they're a bunch of terrifying monsters is helping anyone. We have a party, hang out, maybe get to know each other a-"

But Summer seemed to still be hung up on that first point. "You're… hanging out… with the Prince of the Grimm?"

"Uh, _yeah, _mom, I just said that. His name's Jaune, he's got glowing red eyes and punches harder than _dad _does, and-"

"And you want… to get to know him better..." Oh no. Qrow could tell where she was going with this and he really needed to step in before she-

But Yang, oblivious, went right in before he could act. "Mom," she said, rolling her eyes, "what's your problem with us having a party? We'll invite CFVY, so Ren and Yatsuhashi can make sure everything stays boring and there's no shenanigans, and we'll just hang out. Have pizza. Chill a little."

"I just… I mean, you're going to have _boys _at this-"

"_MOM!_" she shrieked in pure, teenage mortification, "For the last time: _I am GAY! _G-A-Y, GAY! _You're _the one who threw me a whole party when I came out!"

Qrow snickered at that, even as Summer and Yang shot him a _withering_ glare. When Yang came out and introduced them to her girlfriend, it wasn't her bisexual father or gay uncle who'd made a whole deal about it, but her far-end-of-the-scale hetero mom. It had been a cute party, though. Girlfriend was a bit of a dud, but eh, you don't always hit bullseye on your first.

"Honey!" a mortified Summer tried to salvage her position, "I know that, and I wasn't- I wasn't _suggesting _that you and he, but, I mean, you're at Beacon and he's a Prince and you… sometimes do things without really… thinking them through and-"

Yang has impressively kept her anger in check to that point, but Summer wasn't getting another word more. "You know what? I'm _doing _this, whether or _not _I have approval. And _you'll_ be happy to know it'll be _girls only. _And, oh, if it happens to be a sapphic orgy of _legendary proportions, WELL AT LEAST THERE WEREN'T ANY BOYS THERE!_" she screamed before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Summer buried her face in her hands, and Qrow gave her a sympathetic pat on the back. Teenagers. This was why Qrow prefered being the Fun Uncle to being a parent. But Summer _had _kind of put her foot in it… He sighed, knowing that, somehow, once again, it fell on him to be the voice of wisdom.

"Summer..." he tried to sound considerate, "She's kind of got a point there. It's not a _bad _idea..."

"Qrow..." she buried her face further into her hands, "How am I supposed to explain things when Tai asks, 'Oh, how's Yang doing at Beacon?' What am I supposed to say? 'She's doing great, honey, I just met her new girlfriend—she has tentacles!' Is that what I'm supposed to do here? Sit back and let Yang make the _worst _decision in Remnant's history?"

"It's not the _worst _decision..." and then he realized that he was taking a terrible tack on this argument. He had to adapt. "Listen, Summer, the more you tell her not to, the more she's going to _want _it, she's exactly like-"

_"__Don't_ say Raven," Summer shot back, icily.

"I wasn't!" Raven was a… touchy subject, to say the least. Not just for the way his deadbeat sister clearly still had some impact on Yang, but ever since the Branwen Clan collapsed, she'd turned dark. Something he couldn't imagine before, but it turned out that his dear sister could fall even further, morally, than where she used to be. He rarely heard any news from her, but it was never good. "I was going to say that she's like _us. _You and me and Tai, and, yeah, Raven. Remember, in the old days, like that first mission we had where Glyn was supervising us?"

Summer snorted a laugh, "A Proper Huntress Follows Proper Protocol," she said in an imitation of the younger Goodwitch's irritatingly strict and superior tone.

"Exactly! And we did everything we could to bend the rules all because _duh-duhduh-dun!_" he mimicked a trumpet, "We were dumb teenagers! And that's what Yang is right now."

Summer's features softened. "She's a lot more mature than I was at her age," she murmured.

"Yeah, cause we were a bunch of screwups while _she_ got raised by supermom."

Summer blushed at the compliment. Qrow really cared for Summer and Tai. They were his real family, people who actually cared for him, unlike his biological family that saw him only as a tool for advancing the future of the tribe. But that meant that he owed them care and support when they needed it, and right now, Summer needed some advice.

"Listen, Summer… I know Yang's a willful girl, but just think what Tai would say about 'the water goes around the rocks' or something like that, and put a little faith in the kids."

She cracked a wry grin. "Qrow, you hate Tai's philosophical moments, what's got you trying to quote him?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Eh, I've been visiting Clover while he's recovering, and he's got a way of rubbin' off on ya with his whole 'It'll all work out' attitude."

She chuckled, and Qrow felt a hint of a blush cross his face. Did he like Clover? Course he did—he was a good guy who, in spite of his personality and _bulllshit Semblance, _was a lot like Qrow when he got down to it. They were both men who did the work, sometimes not glamorous, often unpleasant, and all done in the hopes that their leadership knew what they were doing. Clover knew what it meant to _trust _a leader, like Qrow trusted Ozpin, and it was good to have someone who understood what that meant.

But _romantically? _Well, Qrow didn't want to close any doors before their time, but he felt things would be best kept professional between them. At least until this whole situation got wrapped up. Then, he might reconsider his options.

"...We've actually still got the penthouse level of the Veraton and the Concourse booked..."

Qrow was confused by Summer's sudden non sequitur. They'd canceled the reception when the Council pulled out of the… and then he felt a wicked grin come to his face as he realized her meaning. "We would have to be… the biggest assholes to do that to the Council..."

"They'd be obligated to handle security for it… a bunch of teenagers having a party, literally anything that goes wrong and somebody loses their head..."

"We'd get a night off."

Summer nodded, struggling to suppress a grin, "I mean… it's for peace and diplomacy, isn't it? Like Yang said, to help them feel normal and welcomed."

"Oh, yes, of course..." Qrow made no effort to suppress his smile, "And maybe I'll tell the little Dragon that there is not to be any alcohol there, under _any circumstances._"

"God, Qrow," she laughed, "try to keep the evil to a 'less-than-Salem' level!"

"No promises," he grinned, "But I'm demanding we flip a coin to see which of us gets to be the one to notify the Council that we're doing this."

* * *

A… party?

Those syllables were clattering around Blake's mind. It was like she couldn't quite grasp them, they were there, she could picture the word and its meaning, but she couldn't file it away in her brain as something _real_, and so it just… rattled around. A party.

Not a reception, not a meet and greet, but the sort of party where there's a handmade invitation for "GIRLS NIGHT" that proclaims there will be "No Boys Allowed!" and that drinks and food would be provided.

It, frankly, was a little embarrassing, made even worse by the excitable girl who'd _handed _the invitation to them—she honestly looked too young to be attending this school, making the whole thing seem even more surreal. But Pyrrha had taken the invitation from her, and that's when Blake noticed that the girl had silver eyes… and young or not, immature or not, _whatever _else was known about her… Blake knew to be wary around silver eyed warriors.

But Jaune had no such compunctions.

"A party!" he cheered as soon as Pyrrha brought the invite to his attention, "That's great, _and _it explains the scroll message I just got from a… 'Lie Ren?' Am I pronouncing that correctly?"

"Are you sure…" Emerald searched for her words, "that this is a… _good_ idea and not a bad one?"

"You guys'll have fun," Jaune reassured them, as though _that _was the problem here, "And won't it be good to get to, you know, meet some new people, hang out with someone you haven't known all your life?"

Pyrrha stiffened. "I don't see… I think I've seen _enough _of this school to know if I want to get to know them better."

"But where will Jaune go?" Weiss asked, pointing to the "No Boys Allowed" on the invite.

"Apparently, Guys Night," he laughed, "Got a message about it, and I think I'll be hanging out with some of the male teammates of the teams you'll be hanging out with."

"No." Weiss declared. "I don't like it."

"Aww, come on, Weiss," he said, resting a hand on her shoulder, "You might make a new friend."

"I have you," and she wrapped her arms around Jaune, "Don't _want_ more."

He ruffled her hair affectionately. "Come on, Weiss, there's gonna be snacks! The kind of food we _never _got back home!"

"Remember that time," Emerald started wistfully, "when Dr. Watts first came to Mother? And Blake and I stole all his bags?"

Blake had to laugh at that memory. "Oh yeah! And it had those little candies from Mantle!" The memory of those little chocolates always made her feel warm, remembering what it felt like to divvy up the loot with her siblings. She felt like she was a provider, bringing the spoils to them. They had tried to give Jaune the remainder, a tribute to his status as their Prince (and a thank you for his recent three day stay in The Hole that got them proper beds), but he _insisted _that she and Emerald take it. The contentment of knowing that Jaune was happy with her would have been reward enough, but the treat… it was one of her warmest childhood memories.

"I'll always remember all the zippers," Pyrrha said with a slight giggle, "I don't think we'd seen a zipper since we were little, and it was so much fun to play with all of his clothes. And the computer stuff he had in the bag was fun, too."

"They didn't taste good," Weiss grumpily replied.

"I know," Pyrrha said with a smile, "but you didn't have to _tell _Dr. Watts that!"

"But then Mother found Ms. Fall!" Emerald cut in, "Because _Arthur _kept complaining that we didn't have 'appropriate social skills.'"

Blake found Dr. Watts to be a pompous idiot who thought he was _far _more popular with her siblings than he was, but she found Emerald's investment in his feud with Ms. Fall to be rather distasteful. It was far easier, and Ms. Fall would surely agree, to flatter his ego and _use _him, rather than get invested in a fight between two of their future servants.

But Jaune cut in with a wistful smile. "Those chocolates were _so _good… but you know..."

That tone of voice could only mean one thing, and Blake knew it—their brother was trying to pull something.

"I'm sure I could make a request that they have some at the party, and… at this party, there might be all sorts of _new _treats you've never had before..."

Blake groaned. She always forgot that Jaune _was_ a skilled manipulator, and he knew that they all had a weakness for food. Even her own stomach rose against her treasonously, the hope inspired by the hand-drawn picture of a pizza—she'd never _had _pizza before, but immediately recognized the picture. And she _wanted _it.

Even Pyrrha, stoic, invincible Pyrrha, had a look of longing on her face. And judging from his satisfied smile, Jaune knew they'd taken the bait.

Except… Weiss hadn't. Weiss, the little glutton who _always _found whatever hiding spot they stashed their treats in for safekeeping, was the only one who wasn't won over by the promise of pizza.

"Hey Weiss," Jaune crouched down by their sister, "what's wrong?"

"Do I..." she closed her mouth, tightly, blinking away some soon-forming tears before she looked back to them, "Do I hafta be Nice Weiss, or can- can I…" she balled up her fists and then cried out, "I don't wanna!"

Blake was startled by that, as were the rest of her sisters. Weiss didn't _enjoy _having to behave herself, but she would always do it for Jaune, often with some light coaxing. To hear her so passionately _refuse _was a surprise.

"What's wrong with Nice Weiss?" he asked softly, "Is it-"

"It's not me!" she said, "That's not- it's not _me, _and I don't like bein' Nice Weiss! I don't like it!"

"Shhh," Jaune patted her shoulder. Blake glanced to Pyrrha, then Emerald, the both of them equally frozen. Nice Weiss had been… Blake had thought it had been a _breakthrough, _a way to ensure that Weiss could be more… more _reasonable, _and Blake felt a pain in her heart just to have thought that. Weiss was her sister, her dear, precious sister, and all this time… had they just been making her miserable? Making her be someone she hated?

Blake was no stranger to guilt, but this was pain itself. She felt Pyrrha grab her hand, and she had no words for how touched she was by the gesture, paying it forward by taking Emerald's hand in her own.

"You don't have to be Nice Weiss if you don't like it," Jaune explained, quietly, "I _know _you're a good girl, Weiss. I know you're friendly and you like people, and people are gonna like you! And your sisters," he looked to them, and Blake felt a _surge _in her heart at being useful to Jaune, "will keep an eye on you. They'll help you, and you'll have a _great _time. And… you can eat as much ice cream as you want..."

"O- okay," Weiss answered nervously.

Blake swept in, resting a hand on Weiss's shoulder. "Don't worry," she comforted her sister, "we'll look after you. I _promise _you'll have a great time at the party."

Weiss gave her a hug, and Blake felt that cherished warmth inside her, knowing that she was able to help her siblings.

"I'm going to send a message back to, uh, Lie, and see if he can make sure that there's _plenty _of junk food for you all to really enjoy," he fiddled with his scroll, and even Weiss turned cheerful from the thought.

In one move, Jaune had successfully flipped all of their objections, to the point where now _Blake _was deeply invested in making sure it was a successful party, while coming off as not only permissive, but entirely on their side.

Blake had to admit, she wasn't sure she could have done it better herself.

* * *

Sitting and waiting in the kitchen of an unused event space, Kali Belladonna felt the pain in her breast that she had been feeling off and on for the past fifteen years.

The doctors told her it wasn't an uncommon response to tragedy. The inescapable memory of nursing her little girl, the tiny mouth at her breast, the imprint left in her body that would never go away. It was the feeling of holding her child and marveling that she could produce something so perfect… and the pain of losing her.

Not a day went by when Kali didn't think about Blake. Didn't wonder what happened to the precocious girl, who always passed her developmental milestones far earlier than the parenting books told her to expect. She was an impatient girl, never satisfied with how things were, always striving to discover something new. Never wanting to go to bed, always seeking to escape whatever constrained her, whether it was her crib as a baby and the house as a toddler. Such a handful, and yet… she'd loved Blake so dearly.

How could she not? She was perfect. Holding her child, Kali felt _complete. _Like her whole life was leading up to the moments she would rock her daughter to sleep, watching her grow up, strong and healthy.

And then Salem came.

Every moment of that day was forever branded upon her memory. She would never forget what Ozpin of Vale told them alongside the leadership of the other Kingdoms, the face of the Witch in the video, the way she said "Blake Belladonna" in her demands… the deep, wretched feeling in her stomach as she saw the way the world was turning, and how dearly she wanted to stop it, to scream "HALT" at the tides and tell them she _would not surrender her child._ But the Faunus could not decline to sacrifice. They'd won so much in her lifetime, and they could not falter now. The sight of her grief and pain, alongside the dignitaries of the human Kingdoms would be a powerful image that the Faunus sacrificed as much as any human when they were called upon. She wouldn't let them take her by force, to show how powerless Menagerie was against the other Kingdoms. But to give up Blake, to lose her only child...

Ghira had, years ago, cautiously, ventured that they try again, to have another child, but Kali couldn't bear the thought. She knew she couldn't. She couldn't love that dearly ever again, couldn't risk this pain ever again. And so she'd become distant. All that mattered to her, now, was her duties to her people and her husband, duties she carried out with a cold efficiency that even Sienna called unsettling. But Kali would rather have her enmity than her pity, so she rebuffed her attempts to reach out to her.

She needed a smoke.

Kali reached for her purse and began to rifle through it, looking for the pack of cigarettes she'd stashed away. Ghira wouldn't be at this meeting, and she knew how to hide that she'd been smoking. But she couldn't find them, and she was really starting to get-

"You asked me to check your bag for cigarettes, ma'am," Ilia reminded her, "Because you're trying to quit."

Kali groaned. She _had _asked Ilia to help her keep from lapsing on her resolution. But damned if she didn't need the nicotine right now. "Just so you know," she replied icily, "I _do _resent you for this."

"And you told me to do so even though you would resent me for it."

Kali laughed, a harsh laugh, but one that broke some of the tension in the room. Ilia was a good assistant, and she relied on her quite a bit. She was… as close to a confidant as Kali had. She and Ghira shared their silent grief, but Ilia had been there for the smaller problems of life ever since Kali had hired her as her personal assistant and body woman. She hadn't really needed one, but something about Ilia impressed her, and, being an orphan, she was all too eager to jump to a stable position. She knew Ilia saw her as a mother figure, but… Kali couldn't reciprocate. She could _never _replace Blake. And she'd never put another girl in the position of having to live in that shadow.

The door opened, bringing the last two members of their little conspiracy into the room.

"Winter," Kali immediately went over to pull the girl into a hug, "Here, it's okay, I'm here. I am _so, so _sorry for you and Jacques."

She stiffened in the hug, like she always did at physical contact, but soon, Winter's defenses broke down as she folded into the embrace. She was such a strong girl, and she did so much for her family, but she needed to be reminded that she didn't have to shoulder all the burden.

They held each other in silence. Winter was too proud to ever show her weakness or pain, but Kali knew she needed a hug more than anything right now. She'd wanted to see her as soon as she'd heard what happened, to let her know that she had a place where she didn't have to be strong. But the world didn't need to know how close the Schnees and the Belladonnas truly were, and it was best that they didn't. Winter and Jacques had been able to share considerable intelligence from Atlas and SDC sources that likely did not want the Chieftain of Menagerie listening in on.

But she was here now, and so Kali would hold her and give her, at least, a moment of vulnerability. Whatever maternal instincts hadn't been burnt out of her years ago told her to hold the poor girl as tightly as she could. Just like she had at Willow's funeral, taking Winter to a side room and just letting the girl break down as Kali held her and told her it would all be alright.

It had been long enough. She wished for more time, for more opportunity to let Winter, who always had to be strong, who grew up far too fast, to grieve, away from prying eyes. But they had a fourth in the room, and Kali _did not_ trust him.

Slipping from the hug. Kali extended a hand to the disheveled man in the gray jacket. "Kali Belladonna."

He nodded, his gesture curt—a man not used to, or fond of, polite courtesies. "Thank you for inviting me to speak with you, Mrs. Belladonna. Dr. Merlot, I'm a specialist on-"

Kali cut him off before he had a chance to talk himself up. "On Grimm behavior, yes. I've read your dossier." Being a former activist meant she knew how to remind the big egos that _she _was in charge. "This is a matter of national security, and the safety of _my daughter, _so please, get to the point."

Merlot seemed slightly put out to be treated so brusquely, but began speaking. "Our knowledge of Grimm science has advanced more in the past fifteen years than in the previous hundred, and yet, the more we learn, the more gaps we are finding in our knowledge."

"Just tell us what you know," she growled. She didn't have patience for a long-winded academic, especially when she knew what they were hiring him for.

Merlot gave her a curt nod. "Very well. At present, our knowledge on matters related to Salem are… limited, even with the intelligence I've received from Specialist Schnee. But her power over the Grimm seems to be a continuation of Grimm power dynamics we've seen among other species." He leaned forward, "An Alpha Beowulf can command a pack, and, though rare, we've seen instances of greater Grimm coordinating the actions of their attendant lessers. Grimm 'society' is strictly hierarchical, and based on non-physical means of communication."

"And that means..."

"This… 'Prince of the Grimm,' Jaune Arc is clearly the linchpin in the hierarchy between Salem and the rest of the claimed. They are far too autonomous and intelligent for Salem to allow them out of her sight so carelessly, and, therefore, she must have a means of extending her influence into Remnant. The Prince, then, is the most likely target, and from covert aura spectrum analysis, his aura seems to be… interlaced with the others."

Kali cocked an eyebrow. "'Interlaced?' That doesn't… what does that mean, for an aura?"

Merlot sighed. "To know for certain… we would need substantially more study. But for now, I believe it to be a means of influence—he is, as we've discovered, the only one _with _an aura, and I suspect it was the Queen's decision. To keep them from resisting their Prince's influence, and through that, her influence as well. But it does make him a prime candidate for Disruption, as a tactic."

"'Disruption?' I'm not familiar with the phrase."

"It's… a Huntsman's tactic," Winter explained, "Taking out the largest Grimm first tends to disrupt pack behaviors—it's called 'starting a panic' and it buys a team time to break up a large pack into something more manageable."

"The disruption caused by the breach in command would not 'free' your daughter from Salem's influence, but it would disorient them enough to likely leave them confused and vulnerable. They could then be taken and separated from one another and, from there, deprogrammed. It's risky but..."

A glance to Ilia confirmed that everyone knew what was being implied here. And all were resolutely confirmed to do _whatever it took, _even if it damned them forever. She knew the Arcs well. She knew all the families of the claimed, but the Arcs had always been kind. Not stern and aloof like the Nikoses. Not wretched _cowards _like the Vacuos. They were good people. But this was...

Any action in a war meant lives lost. It meant suffering and loss. She and Ghira had done this moral calculus before, the grim reality of leadership when lives were on the line. And... this wasn't their son. Not anymore.

"It's our only shot," Kali concluded. "But an... assassination of her 'Prince' would be an act of war against Salem herself, and-"

"We… may have an answer for that," Winter hesitantly ventured, "Atlas has a… plan in place should the situation with Salem deteriorate into open conflict. My father is currently lobbying the Council, and… I believe we can count on General Ironwood's… begrudging support, even if we are the ones launching the first strike."

Kali gave a grim nod. To ignite a global war was unthinkable, but with what she knew about what… that _monster _had done to her daughter, she knew that it was inevitable. The world had known that total war against the Grimm themselves had been a possibility for 15 years, now that they knew the monsters had a leader, and Remnant had prepared.

Through her remaining allies in the White Fang and with Jacques's covert assistance, Kali secretly knew what Winter was referring to: Action Plan 14. AP-14 was Atlas's Top Secret plan for the defense of Remnant in the event of total war against Salem and the Grimm. The expected losses were massive, Menagerie would almost certainly be indefensible and left to be overrun... left to die.

But Kali had to admit, the General had a plan that could actually kill the bitch.

And the Faunus were willing to sacrifice a lot to ensure the world didn't have to endure her tyranny any longer. To ensure that the world entire could be free of the Grimm.

As Merlot continued his explanation of their standing theories of how the Grimm corruption actually worked, as well as the strengths and limitations of their unique powers, the wheels were already turning in Kali's mind. Strategies, gambits, resources that could be marshaled. It was risky, but everything with this was risky… and it would be worth it. At the end, it would be worth it.

She would do _anything _to save her daughter.

**Thanks to Renarde and Danish for feedback on the chapter!**

**I really like writing Kali, especially some of her future scenes in this story. Everyone endures grief differently, and Kali became cold and vicious... at the same time, as much as she might deny it, she still has a softer, maternal side that _clearly_ comes out with Ilia and Winter.  
**

**We're seeing the Belladonna-Schnee conspiracy begin to take shape, alongside Yang's plan for a party. Both plans full of incomplete information and some very bad ideas, but perhaps Yang's youthful impulsiveness can succeed and hold off disaster? Or perhaps, she'll just make things _emphatically worse. _But she's got Jaune on her side, so... we'll see how it all goes.**


	10. Fraternity

Jaune nervously followed behind his escort. Qrow Branwen. According to Cinder, he was a skilled intelligence operative and the one man on their lead security team. Cinder clearly did not think highly of Mr. Branwen, but she warned Jaune not to underestimate him. But at the same time, the members of their security team just seemed so… nice? He hadn't really gotten to know any of them, but Mrs. Rose really didn't seem like the bloody-minded killer Mother described a Silver-Eyed Warrior as.

Mr. Branwen even gave him a wry chuckle as he got the door and told him, "Now don't you have _too _much fun now."

That… well, his _tone _sounded positive, but at the same time, Jaune was a little wary about everything with Mr. Branwen. And he wasn't sure how to feel anything other than wary with his sisters out of his sight. It may have been his call, but Jaune knew that this was… that he was taking a risk with this. But he had to show them he _trusted _them, especially after denying Blake and Pyrrha a chance to fight, and… he did trust them, right?

But the door was open, and Jaune could see the people he'd be trying to socialize with.

Jaune had very little experience with social situations that weren't with his sisters. Mother had sent him with Cinder to meet with the leaders of a group that worshiped Mother as a goddess. He didn't like them. He was only 13, and hadn't had much experience meeting new people, and they made him very uncomfortable.

But this group was a lot less likely to try and… worship him or offer him… other things. Jaune shuddered, remembering the woman who… it made him very uncomfortable. So he was hopeful that they would be like Yang, people who could look _past _his inhumanity and just let him be… just a normal guy, for one night.

The door shut behind him, and Jaune tried to give them a casual grin. "Hello," he said, graciously, "I am Prince Jaune of the Grimmlands, and I thank you for your hospitality."

"You honor us with your presence," said the tall boy in the green robe. He gave a bow, showing Jaune that he had a striking magenta stripe in his black hair. "I am Lie Ren," so he _had _been pronouncing it right, "of Kuroyuri, though most people just call me Ren."

"I'm Fox," the redheaded young man with milky white eyes cheerfully introduced himself, "you can't, like, do magic on us if we give you our names, right?"

"I..." Jaune paused. Weiss… _could _use a name to empower one of her dolls, so _technically… _"I… can't really do that much magic? It's not really my… forte."

The man nodded. "Cool, cool… let's just stick with Fox for now."

"Yatsuhashi Daichii," nodded the last of the group. He was an enormous man, big, and quiet, in the way that reminded Jaune of Hazel which was, admittedly, a little unnerving to Jaune. Hazel was one of Jaune's subordinates, and Jaune had had to _personally _intervene to save his life at least once (Pyrrha thought that making Weiss cry when he tried to teach her self defense was an offense that demanded… retribution), but at the same time, Jaune always got the sense that Hazel didn't like him, and Jaune always felt… _guilty _about that.

But with introductions out of the way, Jaune now stood awkwardly in the front of the room. He could smell the food over on the table, a scent that made his always-disobedient stomach _growl, _but at the same time, Jaune didn't feel like he _could _go for the food, not until his hosts had invited him to eat? Or were they waiting for _him _to make the first move?

Jaune inwardly cursed that Cinder had never trained him in social manipulation, just Blake and Emerald, and now he was left _really _wishing he just knew basic Valean etiquette. Mother had taught him that a _true _Royal should expect others to accommodate his majesty, rather than fret about their comfort, but Jaune already knew that taking Mother's guidance here would only end poorly. Very _rarely _was Mother's guidance useful for anything other than starting fights.

He _really _hoped that he wasn't coming across as a terrifyingly silent invader, standing mutely at their doorway.

"So..." Jaune began, hoping that his mind would come up with something before he had to speak, "How's… everyone… doing?"

He dearly hoped that neither Cinder nor Blake ever heard that he'd said that.

His hosts glanced amongst themselves, until, finally, Fox smirked at him.

"Alright, so," he chuckled, "I get why we're the ones hosting you for guys night—very low risk of chaos, which, considering we all had to get pat down, like, four times by security, I get that people don't want things to… get out of hand, _BUT, _I must admit we are also, alas, not the most fun group of people you might meet at Vale."

"I can be fun," Yatsuhashi grumped, in a tone that didn't exactly suggest he was.

"Did you bring your Go board, Yats?"

The big man shifted uncomfortably before admitting, "Yes."

"So you can see why we might need another option for fun."

Ren groaned. "Just tell me it isn't-"

"Our good friends from Team Sun! Sun and Neptune!"

Jaune wasn't quite sure how the team naming conventions worked, or if someone on Yang's team was either named Yearn or there was something else going on there, but he heard a knock at the door and Fox went over to open it.

Behind it stood two rather… striking young Hunstmen. One had electric blue hair, which Jaune was surprised as much that he was pulling it off as he was to see such an unnatural color (though, with glowing red eyes, he wasn't one to talk), and the other, a monkey Faunus, with his tail idly moving about, did not seem to have a problem bearing his chest to all of them. How they had made it past security to get here, dressed like _that_... Jaune truly had no idea.

"Hey, guys!" Fox extended his arms expectantly, "beer me!"

There was a brief pause.

Fox raised his arms again. "Come on, guys, I am literally blind here, you've gotta-"

"They didn't bring beer, Fox," Yatsuhashi explained, his tone annoyed, but in the way where he was as annoyed at himself for not expecting this.

But Fox was merely indignant. "What! Why not?" he asked.

"Because it could spark an international incident?" Ren suggested, dully. "Because there is a _small army _of Valean police and security forces waiting outside?"

"What? No! We skipped the security, and- Why should _we _have brought the beer?" the blue haired one responded, "I don't know if you've noticed this, but we're hanging with a _Prince _tonight, which means the laws of Vale _do not apply to this room!_"

Ren sighed and asked through gritted teeth, like he didn't actually want to hear the answer, "And that means..."

"We figured he could hook us up," the shirtless blond chimed in. "By the way, those eyes—very cool."

"Hook?" Jaune asked, still a little overwhelmed by the sudden arrival and the very clear sense that these five had a well-established dynamic he was an outsider to. "What are you- what does that mean?"

But then the blue haired Huntsman clasped him on the shoulder. "You're a Prince, right? My friend, Sun Wukong here, and I—I'm Neptune, by the way—believe we are going to get along _great, _because, as far as I can tell, being a Prince means that no laws apply to you, and that's awesome!"

Jaune blinked. Mother _had _told him he was above all mortal law, and only owed his fealty to her, but Jaune didn't think that was… something _Vale _also thought.

"I..." once again, he was searching for his words, "I am not… sure that's how, um, it works..."

"It's mostly guesswork on our part," shrugged Sun, "Don't know a lot of Princes, really."

"Closest we've got to that is Ren," Neptune chimed in.

Jaune was surprised by that. He thought the Kingdoms were in name only, but it seemed that wasn't quite the case. "Oh?" he asked, "Are you… also a royal?"

But Ren laughed, a laugh more polite than humored. "No, it's simply that my father's a magistrate in my hometown. It's nothing fancy, but _some people_ are convinced I am somehow above the law."

"I'm just saying," Sun replied, "next time I get arrested, if I've got a choice between calling a lawyer or calling Ren, I'm calling Ren."

"Please call a lawyer."

"I'm calling Ren," he shrugged.

"I'm also calling Ren," Neptune added.

"Same," Fox chimed in, "Unless Jaune's willing to give us his number—can you imagine? Being held on bail and then _the Prince of the Grimm _comes rolling in? It'd be so _badass!_"

Suddenly, the three of them were eagerly describing, with sound effects, how such a confrontation might go. A lot of bending prison bars and leading Grimm armies and other things Jaune was pretty sure was not a good way to get someone out of jail without triggering a war.

Odd as it might be to think it, Jaune somehow got the feeling that Mother might actually _like _this group… well, maybe.

"You guys are all," he chuckled, "pretty, um, welcoming? I mean, I am..." he gestured to his eyes.

Fox clasped him by the shoulder. "Yeah, won't lie, you're a scary motherfucker, but... you wanna know a little secret? When we voiced some… concerns, Ren here pointed out something we all have in common. Everyone in this room," and he gestured, vaguely in the direction of the rest of them, "has had their ass kicked by Yang Xiao Long. Girl's _tough._"

"She is, in truth, a peerless warrior," Yatsuhashi said, then quickly added, "No one may tell Coco I said that."

"And once we knew you weren't an unstoppable juggernaut, but someone who's had to go through the Xiao Long ringer," Ren chuckled, this time, far more authentically, "we figured we could build off of that."

Jaune had to smile at that. Losing to Yang had been… well, he hadn't _enjoyed it, _he rarely got to go all out and let the Darkness guide him, and he really wanted to win, but as her last blow knocked him to the ground, he realized… when was the last time he'd been treated as anything other than the Perfect Prince Who Must Be Protected At All Costs? It felt _nice _to be… normal. And after people saw that he wasn't some invincible monster, he could literally feel as everyone became a lot less _afraid _of them.

"And a great way to build a real friendship," Neptune clapped him on the shoulder, "is if you use your princely authority to make this party a _rager!"_

Oh, yeah, that.

Jaune swallowed nervously. He'd not only never _had _alcohol before… he'd never bought anything before in his life! Jaune had to _assume _he had money, he was fairly certain he was actually wealthy, but he didn't know where it was or how to use it. Did he have to ask Cinder? Would Cinder… the thought of asking Cinder to help him buy alcohol made him immediately realize that _Cinder could not know about any of this._

But that reminded him that Mother had other servants...

He took out his personal scroll, noticing out of the corner of his eye the admiring looks it received as he unlatched the device and punched in the number. It only rang for a moment before the screen lit up with the face of Dr. Arthur Watts. "My Prince!" he give a cheerful greeting, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

And Jaune's mouth immediately went dry. What had seemed like such a good, clear idea moments ago now seemed hazy and nonspecific. "Hey… Arthur, um, I was just… ummmmmmm," everything Cinder, everything _Mother _had ever told him about how a Prince behaved to his subordinates was _screaming _in his mind as he forced out, "howdoIbuyalcohol?"

"I… beg your pardon?"

Jaune cringed. "I'm… at a party… and… um..."

Which was the cue for Sun to pop up behind Jaune. "He's not subject to Vale's laws, right?"

Arthur's eyes got wide at the sight of Sun. "Who- My Prince… where are you right now?"

Jaune looked down. "At a… party?"

"Ask stupid questions..." Arthur sighed, then he turned to Sun, "No, as Prince of the Grimmlands, his Highness is _not _subject to the laws of _any _Kingdom, and any attempt to enforce any such laws against him would be an Act of War against the Grimm. And so I would _strongly _recommend that-"

"Hear that, Jaune!" Neptune gave him a hearty slap across the back, "That means you can buy us booze!"

"I _beg _your pardon?" a shocked and incredulous Arthur asked, mustache trembling, "Your Highness, are you… was the law you are asking me about _providing alcohol to a minor?_"

Jaune struggled to find an answer before one of his new friends cut in, but failed, as Fox blurted out, "Yeah, so what's he gotta do, file so we get diplomatic immunity or does it-"

"PLEASE DON'T TELL CINDER!" Jaune desperately burst out.

But in response to his outburst, Arthur merely leaned back in his chair and idly stroked his mustache. Much like in his earlier meeting with Ozpin, Jaune realized that the wheels in his mind were turning, calculating the odds and the angles. Blake, though _deeply _contemptuous of Arthur as a person, admitted that he was as much a genius as he claimed. But with his considerations finished, he leaned forward. "So… Cinder doesn't want you to have alcohol at your little shindig… my, my, seems like she just thinks she can run your life, _doesn't she..._"

Jaune had heard all this before. The jockeying for his favor, combined with the childish desire to undermine each other. But Blake always told him to play Mother's servants against one another, to make his gain at their expense. And it seemed like it was, even accidentally, working.

"Yes," Arthur mused, "why, if I simply hacked a delivery app and placed a falsely paid-for order… and entered it into the hotel's records as pre-approved… oh yes, I would be able to… ho ho, I do believe Cinder would quite enjoy learning that you had a _fun night, _courtesy of the brilliant Dr. Arthur Watts! Tell me, my Prince, what's your drink of choice?"

Oh no.

Jaune realized he had _no idea _what his options even were, and he could feel everyone judging him. And because he was the Prince, and because he was the one buying, and because- because- Oh, this was really stressful! Beer? Was that an option? That was what Fox had been saying, right? Or… was that a bad option, would he be expected to be drinking something more sophisticated because he was royalty?

So he just stared helplessly at Arthur until the man realized what was going on.

"Perhaps, my Prince… you could use some advice on what to order?"

"Yes!" Jaune was instantly relieved, "I'll ask _Blake _what I should-"

But that was apparently wrong, too. "I… meant me, my Prince. I consider myself to be something of a connoisseur of alcoholic beverages, and I'm sure you'd rather start with the best, rather than work your way up through the trash so many," and his face turned dark, "_unsophisticated _drinkers waste their time with."

Was that… was that good? He wanted good stuff more than bad stuff, but the way Arthur was saying it was making him worry that he might have made a mistake. But he didn't know what the other options were? And he didn't want to look like a loser in front of everyone? So he just nodded. "That… sounds good! Thanks, Arthur!"

He laughed. "Think nothing of it! You just enjoy yourself tonight, and remember that your loyal servant is always ready to help you out—and I'm not quite the stickler for rules like _that woman _is! And do give my regards to Blake," he added cheerily, "I'm _confident _that she'll be an exceptional asset for you on your visit, and you'd be well-served in heeding her advice!" He had no idea that Blake hated him, and thought of him as little more than an easy mark. "And you can certainly count on my _finest _student to lead you down the right path, especially when you have that glorified _babysitter _always trying to squash your fun!"

But Jaune heard a familiar _clank clank clank _in the background, and then a high, metallic voice, "Is that the Young Master?" Tyrian said offscreen, with a sudden, wild giggle, "Oh, I heard the most _wonderful _story about a pack of Schnees learning what our Goddess-"

"It's _no one, _Tyrian!" he cried, "I'm hanging up right now!"

"Oh, but I wanted to-" and the scroll call cut off before Tyrian could get onto the camera. Probably for the best… Jaune wasn't sure how to explain Mother's most… devoted servant. Or his cyborg body. Or how Pyrrha had made him that way. Or how he _thanked _her for every limb he lost. He'd presented her with his stinger as a trophy when she first cut it off, which _horrified _her, but she had no idea how to refuse it, so it still hung in the bedroom.

At least Weiss liked it.

"Holy _shit _your uncle is cool!"

He was jolted back to reality as Sun excitedly gushed about what they'd just seen. "Doesn't even care about the police, about the security, about _anything, _just hooks us up!" He turned to Jaune, "Is this what it was like growing up in the Grimmlands?"

Jaune paled. What was it like growing up in the Grimmlands. The parts where he wasn't fed? The parts where he watched as they all, slowly, succumbed to the stress and fear until Weiss _snapped, _or perhaps being cast into the Pool of Darkness and confronting a cosmic force that sought to strip his very _self _away? Or- or… or, _gods, _or The Hole...

Ren put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I… take it that growing up in the Grimmland's wasn't quite an enjoyable experience?"

He shook his head. "Mother was… Mother was good to us. I took care of my sisters," he stammered out.

"It's alright," Ren soothed, "We're here to have a good time tonight, to not think about those things. And," he shot Sun a seething look, "maybe not _bring up certain topics._"

With a guilty shrug, Sun looked down and muttered. "Well, Arthur's cool."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that—either how much Arthur would be happy to hear that people were talking him up to his Prince, or how furious he would be that he was being called "Arthur." Mother had insisted that he was not to refer to anyone by their title or show such deferences to those who were fundamentally beneath him, and he knew that, for anyone other than him and Mother, Arthur was "Dr. Watts," and could go into a _rage_ if referred to otherwise. "Yeah, he's… a character. Him and Cinder have a bit of a-"

"Quick question," Neptune interrupted, "One, is Cinder the babe who's always following you Grimm kids around, two, you and her aren't a thing, right, and three, do you have her number? Implicit fourth question, can _I _have her number?"

"Queen Salem's majordomo? You want the phone number of _Queen Salem's majordomo?_" Yatsuhashi asked, incredulously. "She would eat you alive. There would not be _bones _left."

"You don't know what I'm into, man."

Cinder wouldn't… _literally… _but… that'd probably be exactly where she drew the line on paying back a teenager who had the audacity to ask her out. And if he gave her number to said teenager… even if it was _his _decision, he couldn't imagine the fury.

Ren cleared his throat. "I know that inviting Neptune meant… we would come to this topic, but perhaps we should consider who our _guest _is before-"

"Oh, yeah," Neptune's cheeks turned pink, then he shot Jaune a grin, "Don't worry man, we can _absolutely _hook you up here."

What was with these people and _hooks? _Jaune looked at Neptune incredulously, as Fox and Sun laughed at whatever it was Neptune had just said as Ren looked simply _aghast._

"I- I don't know..." Jaune's voice got low and embarrassed, "I don't know what you _mean?"_

But Neptune just grinned wider. "Chicks, man, it won't even be _hard." _He saw Jaune's confusion. "Girls. Come on, man, Beacon's hosting some of the top-"

"Girls?" Jaune blanched. He was _considerably _out of his depth, and this was starting to remind him of the last time he had to talk with people. He was _really _starting to wish Cinder was with him. "I don't- I don't think..."

"Jaune. I don't know if you know this, but: You're a _Prince. _A _Prince. _Any girl at Beacon—you want them, _you got them._"

He remembered the way Terra had looked at him after he kissed her hand, though he wasn't sure why. "But what about the whole..." and he gestured again towards his eyes.

Neptune snorted, "Cause you're Grimm? Come on, man, you're average Huntress is, like, 20% nuts, and-"

"50% if we're talking Nora," Fox chimed in, "No offense, Ren."

Ren shrugged. "It's not… untrue," he admitted, and Jaune suddenly became very curious about exactly who his sisters were hanging out with right now. "But maybe we should-"

Neptune cut him off. "And they're all about proving that they can 'face the primal fear' or whatever. They'd be all over getting a chance to face their enemy in the bedroom rather than the battlefield."

Hold on. Bedroom?

"Wait, what?" Jaune asked, trying to put together exactly what Neptune was suggesting. What did the bedroom have to do with a girlfriend? He shared his with his sisters, and it was their safe space. Or at least, it was supposed to be so, for all of them, and his sisters were not supposed to fight in it. Was he _supposed_ to be facing them in… Was that what Pyrrha meant?

But his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Drinks are here!" Fox cheered, and Sun quickly headed to the door, where a _very nervous _looking courier had a cart full of boxes.

"Is- Is this the-"

"Yeah, yeah, it's for us," Sun replied breezily, "Where do I sign?"

He quickly signed the receipt, as Neptune started unloading boxes filled with bottles.

"That's some… really good stuff," the courier awkwardly added, "And, um, I know the security team said I could go through, but, um, are you _sure _you're old enough to-"

Sun returned the receipt, and the courier's eyes went wide, likely from the generous tip he left.

"You gentlemen enjoy your evening!" he cheerfully waved as he took his cart back and shut the door behind him.

"Gentlemen!" Neptune proclaimed, holding up a red cup full of alcohol, "Thanks to the grace of his Royal Majesty, the Prince of the Grimm himself—let's get messed up!"

* * *

Jaune… did not know much about alcohol.

But he kind of got the impression that he _liked _it.

Oh, the _taste _was awful, he knew his drink was more than three quarters pop to alcohol, but he could still taste the _wretched burning sensation _that his peers told him was not uncommon for first time drinkers. Discovering that he was the only first-time drinker, including Ren and Yatsuhashi, had been a bit of a blow to his ego, and Jaune had resolved to _show _that he was just as capable as drinking as the rest of his peers.

Fortunately, Jaune knew that his body transposed food into Grimmstuff (though, he knew from personal experience that he couldn't digest half the things his sisters could), so there was no actual risk of poisoning himself, as much as his stomach disagreed, but a couple drinks in, Jaune was actually starting to enjoy drinking alcohol.

It was funny… he was _pretty _sure he couldn't get drunk, and he didn't _feel _drunk, even though Ren was quietly telling him he might want to slow down.

Besides, he didn't feel any more drunk than anyone else at the party.

"Jaune!" Sun suddenly blurted out, "I gotta ask you… what's with the bird stuff?"

"Bird… stuff?"

"Your sisters," Yatsuhashi said, mostly leaning back in his chair, enjoying the buzz of the alcohol, "One of 'em's 'the Eagle,' and your other sister's a raven, and..."

"Do they all have bird names? Also, what's your bird name?" Neptune concluded.

"Oh," Jaune blushed. He'd never really liked the names Mother had given his sisters, seeing them as impersonal and… a little scary. But he knew that they thought otherwise, and was careful not to let any of his sisters know about that. "Um, well, Pyrrha's the Eagle, cuz she's my general and the leader, Emerald's the Shrike, which is a, um, ah..."

Shit, what _was _a Shrike, again?

"A butcher bird," Ren, thankfully, bailed him out, "Impales its prey on thorns."

"Yep," Jaune said, smiling to think of all the random Shrike facts that Emerald made sure they all knew about. "Blake's got really good information gathering stuff, so she's the Hawk, and Weiss is the Raven, cuz magic."

"Magic?" Yatsuhashi asked, something weird in his voice.

But he was interrupted. "But what bird are you, Jaune?" Sun asked, "There's gotta be a cool ass bird for the Prince of the Grimm. Like, the Nevermore or something?"

Jaune just shook his head. "Nah, no title. Just Prince of the Grimm."

"Bullshit," Fox chuckled, "you totally need a cool bird name."

"I've got one!" Neptune suddenly shouted, startling Jaune nearly enough to make him drop his drink.

Ren sighed. "Please," he asked, "_please_ don't say something stupid here."

"Oh, I'm just going to propose the most _royal _bird of all!" Neptune said, but he was already giggling, "The _Cock!"_

Jaune laughed with the rest of them, but he didn't really get the joke.

"All hail," Sun giggled, raising his drink in a toast, "His Royal Majesty, Prince Jaune _the Cock!_"

They all had a good laugh at that as they raised their cups. Even Ren and Yatsuhashi couldn't suppress a smile at his new title. Jaune made a note to ask Blake to explain the joke to him later.

But after a bit, Fox had started strumming an acoustic guitar, to some mockery. Draining his cup, Jaune had to admit that he actually enjoyed Fox's playing, though he didn't want to risk his social standing by admitting it. But he was also feeling a little bolder now than he was when he first joined the party, plus, he was starting to feel a little nervous—he hadn't talked in a while, and he was worried that maybe his new friends were noticing that.

"Oh, hey!" he said, a slight hiccup in his voice, "I play an instrument! The _hruska!_"

He was met by a bunch of blank stares.

"Oh, yeah!" he laughed, "You wouldn't know about the _hruska, _cause, you know, you didn't grow up in the Grimmlands!"

"The Grimmlands..." Ren stared at him as though he was trying to process if this was a joke or not, "have their own… musical instruments? _Who plays them?_"

"I could hear a Beowulf being musical," Sun suggested, "Some of them, some of them got _rhythm..._"

Jaune stifled a laugh—Sun was a little tipsy for sure.

"Oh, oh, it's just me 'n my sisters," he grinned "My sisters are the *_hic* _really talented ones… You really should hear them. I mean, uh, you can't listen to Weiss sing if you're human and all..."

Ren looked at him aghast. "Do I… want to know why?"

"It's nothing big, just," he pointed to his eyes, "people just start bleeding from here cause of the things they're seeing. Oh! Yeah, you can't hear Pyrrha either, cause her drumming makes Grimm go berserk, so... " he laughed, "But it's a shame, cause they're _so _talented… like Blake..." he started to tear up, thinking of how _beautifully _his sisters performed.

"And what terrifying nightmare instrument does she play?" Neptune asked, if there was sarcasm in his voice, it was too subtle for Jaune to pick up in his current state.

"She's a piper. The Azothic Flute. But… yeah, you couldn't listen to her, either… not safe 'n all. And Emerald won't play for anyone but family. Not cause she drives people mad or nothing, she's just… self conscious."

Yatsuhashi gave him a grave look. "I… do not wish to offend you, or the… rich culture of the Grimmlands, but will this… _hu-ruska? _Will it… can we safely listen to it?"

"Oh yeah!" he cheered, "Lemme grab it!" and he reached into the Darkness, like he had to retrieve the Sword of Ozma in Ozpin's office, pulling forth his _hruska, _the two great slabs of rusty, jagged metal they had salvaged from a crashed Bullhead from an exploratory team of Huntsmen that got lost or something. They'd waited by the Bullhead to see if the Huntsmen would come back for it, but after a while, they decided it was fair game to pick through it, and Jaune had made a musical instrument out of it. Carefully holding the two edges to each other, he carefully ground the metal together, making it _shriek _its dire cry to his new friends. The _hruska _was best played as accompaniment, but Mother had told him she did enjoy hearing the sound of him practicing in the morning. It was one of his most cherished memories, hearing her muted affection, practically a hug and a kiss from their normally so reserved Mother. He played for them the song he'd played for Mother's birthday, the piercing wail of the _hruska _proclaiming his hope for the future and his pride at being her heir.

And then, as he reached the end, he let the _hruska _rest. "Whaddya think?" he grinned, then saw the looks on everyone's faces.

"So that was the music of the Grimmlands," Ren mutely replied, "It… it is definitely what I'd think the music of the Grimmlands sounds like."

And then Neptune slowly voiced, "And your sisters' music makes men die." And then he nodded, "Okay, that's… I'm getting another drink. Can I fix anyone anything?"

Jaune felt a little deflated to hear that they didn't like his playing. But… "I could go for another drink!" he said to Neptune. "And feel free to _hic, _make it stronger! I'm immune to poison, so..."

"That sounds like a challenge!" Fox cheered, "Neptune—for all of humanity, and," he gestured vaguely towards Sun, "Faunus kind, let's show the Grimm that we can party as hard as _they _can!"

**Thanks to Renarde and Danish for feedback on this chapter!**

**Place your bets: is Jaune actually immune to alcohol, and, importantly, hangovers?**

**Gotta say, felt good to write a chapter that was just a group of teens goofing off and making bad decisions. Got to show a bit of how socially stunted and deeply _weird_ Jaune is, but also, that he's not completely hopeless and that the other students are a pretty good group to help him break out of his old life and discover the things that have been kept from him on account of being raised by an evil witch. Even more importantly, a chance to inject some levity so it's not all parental grief and assassination plots. Will this continue into the next chapter, where you'll get to see how Girls Night is going down? Well... you'll see.**


	11. Tell The Truth And Shame The Devil

Weiss had decided that she didn't like parties.

There were too many people, too much noise, and there was no Jaune. She really wanted to be with Jaune right now. She wondered if she broke someone, if she'd be allowed to go home.

But Jaune wasn't home. And he wouldn't be happy when he heard that she broke somebody. And she promised she'd try to be good. And Jaune believed that she could be good, without even having to be Nice Weiss. So she had to not give up.

At least, there was candy here. A lot of candy. And a whole bunch of foods she'd never had before, but Blake told her she'd like them. Weiss mostly stuck with candy.

Telling her sisters before going in that she didn't _want _any help had been a mistake. She'd felt a little smothered at first, and hated feeling like everyone was feeling sorry for her and treating her like a baby, but now she just didn't know what to do with herself. Should she get more candy? Everyone else here was scary, she didn't recognize most of the foods, and she didn't know what else she could do.

She drifted back towards where the candy was, wondering if Blake was right that they'd have ice cream later, wondering even more which candy she'd like to eat right now. It was a difficult decision, and Weiss really wasn't sure…

"Um… hello?"

Weiss turned to see a girl in a red hood. The silver-eyed girl, the one Weiss was supposed to be afraid of, but… everyone here was someone she was supposed to be afraid of. And she seemed nice. And nervous.

"Um, hi, I'm Ruby, and, um, I was told that, um, I should make friends and trying to make friends is hard, but I, ummm… let me start over! Hi," she waved, "I'm Ruby!"

"Who is she?" she asked, pointing at the metal object strapped to her. It was warm, and seemed to thrum with the care, like it was crying out to Weiss to ask about her. She didn't know what it was, but it was special, and very special to Ruby. They had the same energy, the really nice kind that made Weiss think of Jaune.

Ruby stared at her, wide-eyed. "You… you mean Crescent?"

"Cre-scent," she sounded out the syllables. She smiled. It was a nice name. "Can I meet her?"

"You want to… you want to meet Crescent?"

She already said she did, but Ruby was funny, and Weiss liked that about her. So she nodded, happily, and Ruby swiftly deployed a scythe from the object. Ruby was talking, and Weiss liked to hear Ruby talk, but she couldn't focus on that when all she wanted to do was place her hand on the scythe's blade, feeling the sensation of warmth and cherishment, a creator's pride.

"Hi there," she said to Crescent. "I'm Weiss."

"Can you… can you talk to Crescent?" Ruby asked, mouth agape.

Well… not really… but she remembered Jaune telling her that she was a sweet girl, not a scary monster, and that he wanted everyone to know that was what she was. So she smiled back at Ruby. "Crescent says thank you for making her. She's really happy, and likes being a scythe!"

"Wow..." she said, as her eyes got watery. Oh no, Weiss had forgotten, she had Silver Eyes! Mother had warned them about Silver Eyes! They could… they did something Weiss wasn't supposed to let them do! It was bad!

But they were interrupted by a loud voice directed at them. "Gods, Ruby!" Weiss turned to see the blonde. The mean one, who hurt Jaune. Weiss wanted to hurt her, see how she liked it, but Jaune and Blake and Pyrrha and Emerald had told her she had to be friendly and couldn't take her hands off even if Pyrrha and Blake and Emerald also wanted to do it, too. "Did you bring your _scythe _to a _party?_"

"Weiss asked to see it!" she protested. And it was true! She had! So Weiss pouted at the mean girl who hit Jaune!

"She's a nice scythe," she said defensively, "And we're _friends _now!"

The meanie just rolled her eyes. "Okay, well… I guess if you're making friends, it's okay..." and then she wandered off back to the kitchen. No, they'd chased her off! Like Huntresses! They were very brave!

But Ruby didn't seem as enthused. "Ugh, just because she's two years older than me, she thinks she can treat me like I'm a _baby,"_ Ruby pouted. "It's so unfair."

_"My _sisters are like that, too!" Weiss gasped, "They're always fussing over me."

"That's the _worst,_" she griped, "They're always like, 'Ruby, did you get your homework done?' or 'Ruby, you can't just have cookies for dinner,' and-"

"They won't let you have cookies for dinner, either?" Weiss exclaimed, "That's so unfair! We should have our own party."

"We should! With Crescent!"

"And cookies!"

Ruby gave her a big grin as she darted over to a backpack and pulled out a small tin. "My mom said I was supposed to share this with everyone, but… they're all being a bunch of butts, so it's just for you and me!"

And then she opened the tin and Weiss gasped as she revealed her hidden treasure. It was full of cookies. _Chocolate chip_ cookies! And they looked amazing, soft and melty and delicious!

Ruby quickly passed her a cookie, and the two of them chowed down.

She really liked Ruby!

"Do..." her voice trailed off, but Weiss summoned her courage, just like Professor Port told her to do! "Do you like frogs?"

"Frogs?" Ruby asked, a little confused. But then her face lit up with a smile. "Frogs are cool!"

She _really _liked Ruby!

* * *

She really didn't know what to do with herself.

Parties were hard. Emerald had been raised to never be the center of attention, and social settings like this just left her no idea what to do. Ms. Fall had tried to teach her, but it just… she really hated whenever she disappointed Ms. Fall. She knew what to do if she was _infiltrating _a party, but none of those skills really transferred here. What was her _goal _supposed to be? How was she supposed to know what to do if she didn't know what she was doing it _for?_ She was so envious of Blake, clearly winning over an excitable redheaded girl as naturally as breathing. Because Blake was actually good at things other than killing people and infiltration. And this wasn't- Wait… perhaps, she could just _pretend_ that Jaune had asked her to gather intelligence from someone at this party...

Yes. That was what she should do. Jaune had asked her to gather information on the girls who were politely trying to talk to her now. Because… because they were secretly Ms. Fall's enemies! So she needed to get a full report of who they were. She had names for them already, Coco Adel and Velvet Scarlatina, both native Valeans and second year Beacon students, but she could learn so much more than that!

She knew what to do. Shift her focus to winning them over—which was to say, _shift_ slightly, with the signifiers people like in other people, just as she'd learned. Symmetrical face, fuller lips, longer lashes, blushing cheeks-

"Wait, hold up," Coco suddenly spoke up, startling Emerald as she peeked over her sunglasses, "Did your _boobs _just get bigger?"

Emerald's jaw dropped as she practically fell back into the couch she was sitting on. How did she _possibly- _why was she looking _there! _And then Velvet socked Coco in the arm. "I _told _you!" she nearly shrieked, "If you were going to come along _you had to be normal!_"

"I was invited and told, _by Yang,_ to be, quote-unquote, 'my charming self,' and _this girl,_" she jabbed her thumb over to Emerald, "_definitely _has my interest_. _Now, how'd the hell did you _do_ that?"

"Um… I'm..." ohhhhh, she _really _shouldn't do it, she should just shut up and stop talking, but Emerald hated how they were both looking at her and really didn't want to give up the gathering intel game so soon, and if she didn't confess, it'd just be too awkward! "I'm a… shapeshifter, so… I can..."

"Wait, _really?_" Coco's eyes bugged out. "That's _awesome! _How big can they get?"

"Coco!" Velvet cried, solidly slugging her in the arm, "I am RIGHT! HERE!"

"Aww, come on, babe!" Coco teased, "You know you're the only girl for me."

"You're lucky you're cute," Velvet groused.

"Ah, you love it," and Coco pulled Velvet into a kiss.

Emerald had to laugh at it. Mistake. Coco turned on her, her eyebrow cocked and Emerald suddenly felt very much observed in a way she didn't like. "What's so funny?"

"You, um," she gave a nervous laugh suddenly realizing that she was on the spot, the last remains of her earlier confidence melting away, "you gave her a boy-girl kiss. Like she was your boyfriend?"

"Uh, yeah?" Coco tilted her head, "Velvet's my girlfriend? Did you not-"

"A girl can have a girlfriend?" she gawked, "T-that's _allowed?_"

"Why wouldn't it be- _ow!_" Coco had been cut off as Velvet elbowed her in the stomach.

"Emerald," Velvet leaned forward, looking Emerald right in the eye, which made her nervous, "did you ever have… sex ed?"

"Y-yes!" Emerald answered, a little over excited that they were now talking about something she knew very well, "I studied personally under Ms. Fall, and it was my best subject. I am well trained in multiple forms of seduction and prepared to utilize every asset needed, primarily-"

But Velvet blushed furiously, "Nononononono! Not- not that!"

"That's… _awesome,_" Coco sighed before taking another elbow in the gut.

"What I meant, was," and she shot a fierce glare to Coco, "did you ever have a class that talked about sexual health and identities?" Apparently the look on her face was confused and embarrassed enough that Velvet kept going without waiting for her to answer. "Do you, um, do you know what a lesbian is?"

"N-no?" she answered, terribly afraid that they were judging her for her lack of knowledge.

But Velvet… seemed really nice. She just gave her a little smile and said, "Some girls aren't interested in boys, and that's perfectly normal and fine. Coco's a lesbian—a girl who likes other girls, while I'm bisexual—I like both boys and girls. If you have any questions about..."

She was still talking, but Emerald was already reeling too much at her words to pay attention. She'd… it was _allowed? _A girl could… like girls? Like they were supposed to like a boy? Why hadn't… why hadn't Ms. Fall told her about this?

There was a pain in her chest. A pain she hadn't realized had been there until now, but it was an old pain, something she now knew she'd been holding back for a long time. That sense that she wasn't like her sisters. That she wasn't _normal. _Hot tears started to well in her eyes and Emerald did everything she could to _force _them back down. She'd almost made a fool of herself in front of Roman Torchwick, and now she was going to embarrass herself in front of-

She felt a hand on her shoulder. When had Coco gotten next to her—how had she snuck up on her! She was supposed to be the Shrike, supposed to-

"It's okay, man," she whispered, "I remember when I realized it myself, and I was just… so mad that nobody, just, like, told me, that it had taken me so long to figure things out. Just breathe a little, deep breaths, Velvet and I are here for you, and we can find someplace private if you need it."

"Gotta look out for a sister," Velvet said, resting her hand over Emerald's.

"I'm… I'm okay," she said, "I just… I'd like to talk about this… more. I just feel… I've never felt..." she searched for a word.

"Normal?" Velvet asked.

"Yeah… Like I didn't… Like I wasn't _right."_

Emerald _squeaked _in surprise as Velvet and Coco both wrapped her in a sudden hug.

"I know what that's like..." Velvet murmured, "feeling like you're not right, and _trying _to just stop being _different _from everyone."

"Velvet's from a really traditional Faunus family," Coco added, "Which… isn't exactly like being raised by the Queen of the Grimm, but… her dad _is _terrifying."

Emerald laughed at that. A weak laugh, but she felt… she felt better, so much better, to know that this was _okay, _that _she _was okay, and that she had someone who was finally telling her it was _normal _not to be like her sisters. She wasn't sure she _believed _it, they were… they were the enemy, weren't they?

It was a thought that made her blood run cold. A reminder of where her first duties lay. But Emerald couldn't deal with that right now. She needed to be told that things were going to be alright and that she was okay, and Coco and Velvet were the ones doing that.

"Whatever you need, we're here for you," Velvet said as Emerald sniffled from their kindness.

"And I think your shape shifting is totally badass," Coco soberly told her, which didn't fail to make Emerald smile, at least a little.

* * *

Pyrrha stalked back to the kitchen, where the food and drinks had been laid out for them. It was strange—in their lives, they'd gone from barely surviving on food they could scrounge to eating at Mother's table, where the finest chefs to be "acquired" from Remnant prepared elegant meals. But she'd never really eaten ordinary food. Nothing like this, at least. Multiple boxes of pizza with dozens of different toppings, bags of potato chips, pans of brownies and cookies and other treats decorated the counter. And, as Jaune promised, the promised Mantle candies were delivered in a large bowl.

She swiftly and discreetly pocketed what she could. Pyrrha could convert any matter into Grimmstuff, so she could live on gravel if she had to, but the psychological comfort of having food and snacking, and the childhood fears that she never had enough, those never went away.

And, as she rifled through the fridge, she also had a personal investment in this. They had pop in the castle, they'd had permission for it for a few years now. But Dr. Watts never bought the name brands, arguing that there was only the most minor of differences between the brands and generic knock offs. But he was wrong. So wrong.

Pyrrha was stashing as many cans as she could in the Armory when she heard someone approaching. A momentary, irrational terror that she might lose her spoils tore through her before she could calm and collect herself and turn to see the smiling face of Yang Xiao Long.

"Ms. Xiao Long," she nodded, stiffly.

"Hey, P-money, what's up?"

Pyrrha stared at the strange woman, uncertain of what she was supposed to do. Or what she _could _do. And what did she just call her? "Ms. Xiao Long," she simply repeated.

Not that her opponent seemed to listen. "Getting a drink?" she asked, "Help yourself—seriously, help yourself. Mom's budget for the catering for this was _crazy—_something got canceled or something, I'unno—and I got to go all out on having too much stuff." She picked up a slice of pizza and took a messy bite, "_Mmmm… _proper Valean pizza—this is the good stuff. Got the _provel._ Way better than anything Mistralian, and I don't care _what _Neptune tells you..." then she froze mid bite, "Oh, sorry! Forgot you were Mistralian, too!"

"I am of the Grimmlands," she responded, curtly. She didn't like Xiao Long, didn't like her brashness, her attempt to be social, and she certainly didn't like how she had to bite back the urge to bring her full _might _down on this girl for her impertinence to her Prince!

But Xiao Long appeared to be as oblivious to Pyrrha's distaste as she was to her words. "That's cool. You got pizza in the Grimmlands? It's not Argus-style, right? Cause whatever you've got has gotta be better than that fake-pizza casserole."

Pyrrha stared at the girl, completely unsure of what to say to that. "I..." she searched herself for the right words, "I have never had pizza before tonight."

"Whaaaaaaat?" the blonde answered cartoonishly, "You're _kidding. _Aren't you, like, Grimm _royalty? _Or is that why—couldn't eat commoner food? Cause you've been missing _out, _girl!"

She had. But Pyrrha did not want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she enjoyed it. "I am a warrior. I judge my rations on their nutrients, not their flavor."

Xiao Long, however, did not seem even mildly put out by the brush off. "Oh man, you and Ren are gonna bond like it's going out of _style. _But if I could teach him that there were flavors outside of 'subtle' and food outside of tofu, I can teach you, too."

Pyrrha's stomach, though wholly vestigial to her survival, still _growled _at the promise of new foods. "I… I thank you for your hospitality," she replied stiffly, "My siblings and I are… very interested in..." she wanted to be terse, to be hostile, to tell this annoying _bitch _to just leave her alone, but the promise of treats had always been her greatest weakness. "I would appreciate that," she quietly replied.

"Good news—you're at the crossroads of Vacuan, Mistralian, and Valean cuisine, and, yeah, the barbecue here is _nothing _like what you'd get from Patch—nothing is—but we've got the _best _seafood broil you can get _anywhere,_ and we're _definitely _taking you guys out to get beignets before the end of this. 100%, _and, _we gotta get some butter cake. Man, I've already got, like, _forty _places we've gotta check out—you guys are loaded, right?"

Pyrrha's treasonous mouth curled upwards in a smile at the sound "That would..." she blushed, "that would be nice."

"Good!" Yang shot her a thumbs-up. "But while we're talking, like, with the Prince—are you actually siblings, or what's the deal there?"

"He-" her face turned hot at the impertinence of the question, "He is my _brother, _regardless of where we-"

"So that means he's single, then? I mean, you don't have _that _kind of relationship, right?"

Rage. Sing of rage, black and murderous, the rage that cost incalculable pain and-

"I'm just kidding, P-girl!" and then she slapped her on the back, "But that look on your face? I _knew _there was something going on between you two—and, uh, the others?"

"N-No! I- I mean, you can't-" panic surged at being caught like this, being _exposed _by an outsider who-

"Hey, hey..." she leaned in gently, "I'm not gonna blow your cover, and really, I think it's sweet. The two of you are really cute together."

"He's my _brother!" _Pyrrha half-protested, half-wailed.

"I mean..." Yang grew philosophical, "You grew up together, but isn't this more of a 'we were mutually kidnapped together' situation? Not like you're actually adopted or anything. Like, if you're into him, I'm not surprised—he was probably the only guy your age you _knew _for the past fifteen years, am I right?"

"He… he was," Pyrrha softly admitted. Everything she knew about men, no, everything she knew about _love _was in terms of Jaune. From when they were small children, terrified and lost, when Jaune was consoling Weiss as she sobbed in terror. When Pyrrha was struggling to maintain composure just as her… just as she had been told to, Jaune was the one who wore his emotions on his sleeve and risked himself to take care of them. When Pyrrha froze in raw, animalistic terror before Mother, Jaune had stammered out the demands they had prepared. Jaune had been the one to go into The Hole, the first to go into the Pool, the _bravest _of them all.

How could she _not _fall in love with him? He was _everything _to her.

"Yeah, that look on your face," Pyrrha snapped to attention to see Yang smiling at her, "You and him, you'd be _adorable _together, plus, you seem to be the least mad at me of your sisters."

"Weiss isn't mad at you," Pyrrha stiffly replied.

"Well, my sister's latched on to her, so that's a wash—so now I'm talking to you!"

Pyrrha stared at Yang severely, hoping to find _some _insight into what this girl's _deal _was, or, at least, what to do here while stalling for time.

No insight was found.

So Yang took the initiative.

"All I'm saying is… whatever 'rules' there are for relationships… they were not made for anything _close _to your situation. So if you're gonna feel the way you feel, I don't think you should have to hide it."

"You..." Pyrrha fumbled nervously with her words, knowing she was blushing, "you really think so?"

"Absolutely," she said, the outgoing bravado on her face replaced by a soft, gentle kindness that made Pyrrha, in spite of all her instincts, really feel that she could trust Yang. "And if you need a wing-girl… I don't make promises, but I can help you out."

Pyrrha blinked in confusion. "Wing… girl?"

But Yang just laughed. "Oh yeah, you probably… probably didn't have much of a dating scene out in the Grimmlands! I can help, you know, facilitate the two of you figuring out, you know, your whole deal?"

Pyrrha stared at Yang in confusion, something she was coming to realize was just what _happened _when this girl opened her mouth. "My… deal?"

"You and him—you wanna hook up."

Surely turning a furiously crimson color, Pyrrha _whirled _on her feet to walk away from this conversation. Except… the direction she turned just led into the kitchen. Not actually away from Yang. So Pyrrha made it look like she was awkwardly grabbing another pop, then turning back to Yang. And hoping it looked like a cool, composed act.

"Pyrrha..." and there was that soft kindness, that _gentleness _that made Pyrrha think of the stuffed rabbit she now had, and its connection to Jaune, "I threw a party cause I figured you and your siblings could use some _friends _here in Vale. And I… I'm here to be your friend. And that means helping you with boys."

Something about that word… "friends," it sent a wild surge of panic through Pyrrha's heart. The Darkness writhed at hearing it, like this wasn't… like it wasn't _for _her.

But she wanted it.

So she took a deep breath, cracked Yang a weak smile, and said, "Alright then… I… I think I could use your help, Yang."

"Awesome!" she cheered, "And I've got a lot of ideas how to make sure you get the chance to let the Prince know how you feel about him! But to shift gears a moment, about your sisters… is _Blake_ single, cause I'm looking to make a _bad _decision and she seems _exactly _who I'm looking for..."

* * *

That had been an draining ordeal.

Blake had left the party almost totally exhausted, the Valkyrie girl being a surprisingly tiring woman to deal with. Was this what Huntresses were like? She seemed far too _manic_, with just too much positivity for Blake to want to endure more of her than was necessary. But she was better than the _other _options…

Weiss, strangely, had found herself drawn to the Silver-Eyed girl, Ruby Rose, the one Blake felt an instinctual wariness about. But Weiss never acted like one would expect and, to Blake's surprise (and honest gratitude), the two of them actually, somehow… hit it off? Seeing the two of them eat cookies together in a way that they surely believed was stealthy, it was… it was good. If nothing else, the party was, begrudgingly, worth it to give Weiss a chance to meet someone as kind and open as she was.

Even if she was a Silver-Eyed Warrior.

Emerald had spent the night engrossed in her discussion with Coco Adel and Velvet Scarlatina. It didn't take much to guess what they were talking about, though Blake was careful to give her sister privacy on this delicate matter. It had taken her big sister long enough to finally start asking herself _those _questions, and Blake was proud of her finally coming to terms with herself. Though, and Blake had to smirk at the thought, Ms. Fall would probably find herself less than enthused by Emerald's realization.

Really, the two of them having a fun night, especially with how badly they'd been hurt already on this trip, would be enough reason to think that the night had been an unambiguous _good, _except, of course, there was another presence.

Yang Xiao Long.

Blake _hated _Yang Xiao Long.

Hated her for her impertinence. Hated her for her smugness. Hated her for her attempts to insert herself where she did not _belong._ Her attempts to ingratiate herself with Blake's _family._

Blake could see right through her. She could see the wheels turning in her plans. It was obvious: she _wanted _Jaune, the depravity of her mind plain on her face. Worse, Yang wanted to replace them, to take their spot in his heart and insert herself, pushing them aside. Blake had thought she could accept any other woman as Jaune's lover so long as she was his principal advisor, but she could not _tolerate _Yang. There was no curse Blake knew _vile _enough for Yang Xiao Long.

This was a task best suited to Emerald. Perhaps even Pyrrha, but _she _was compromised. And Blake wanted to do this herself. This was her duty. This was her task.

She had to protect her brother.

Slipping through the darkness, she easily moved across the campus. She was never supposed to be the advisor—she had claimed that role for herself. But her original role, what the Darkness tasked her with, was as the Hawk, her brother's eyes, the spy that slipped through the darkness. And as the Hawk, she had her talons…

None saw her passing. Not their security team. Not Ms. Fall. Not even the Headmaster, and though Blake was sorely tempted to fulfill her duties and gather intelligence where she could, she had a greater task at hand. And as she snuck into the dorms, Blake could see _that woman_ passing through the hallways, her great head of blonde hair practically a beacon to her.

Blake kept her distance. Overconfidence led to failure. She watched her move through the halls, politely taking compliments and diplomatically shooing away gossips, as she stepped away from her dorm, out to fetch something. Down a long hallway. Away from others.

This was her opportunity.

"You," she snarled, her dagger at once pressed to the girl's neck, "You think you're-"

"Hey Blake," the girl responded breezily, as though there wasn't a sudden _blade _at her throat!

Blake reeled, now on the back foot. "What? How are you-"

"Your sister," Yang yawned, "she gave me a heads up that you might do this. Very scary, but… kind of figured you weren't actually gonna do anything _serious."_

Blake removed the blade from Yang's throat. Her bluff had been called, and she figured it was better to concede than seem even _weaker _in her position. "Pyrrha..." she growled, furious that she'd been betrayed, when this was about _Jaune's _protection!

"Yeah," Yang airily responded as she turned to Blake, an infuriating smile on her face, "your sis is actually pretty cool, we talked about your brother a bit, but… she also mentioned you were _single,_ and, you know, this isn't the worst way to start a relationship..."

Staggering backwards, the dagger tumbled from Blake's suddenly boneless hand. She wasn't _used _to not having the upper hand, and after everything that had happened at this _stupid _party, Blake felt like she was suddenly out of her depth.

And she _hated _it.

Yang had no trace of fear on her face. No, she had a _dazzling _grin, showing off all her gleaming teeth—but not in a threatening way. She practically _pulsed _with positivity and happiness.

Blake wanted to vomit.

"So! I was hoping to get the chance to talk to you about you, get to know you a little better and-"

Fortunately, they were interrupted as she heard footsteps behind them, a student. Male, big, but graceless. She recognized the gait, it was the Huntsman with the mace. A team leader, though not one that particularly stood out in Blake's original estimation. And as much as she appreciated an interruption from what Yang was saying, she didn't particularly want to see anyone.

Not that he wanted to see her.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, you _freak!" _the simpleton snarled at Blake, evidently thinking she was trying to attack Yang, evidently thinking, from Jaune's display in the class, that she'd be easy prey, "Step the fuck-"

Furious at everyone and everything, Blake let her composure slip as she whirled on the _oaf _and hissed at him—with _all _her teeth bared. She saw his eyes go wide, the gasp _strangle _in his throat, and then… he fainted.

"Holy SHIT!" Yang exclaimed, and Blake felt _good _that she managed to throw the girl off of her rhythm. "Did you just kill-"

"He fainted," she replied disdainfully, looking back to her target, "He's still breathing."

"Well I'll be damned..." Yang replied slowly, then looked back to Blake, only… wearing that same _dazzling_ grin, "That was cool as all _hell, _Blakey! How'd you do that?"

It was one thing to be _unintimidated, _it was another thing entirely to ask her to give up her secrets!

"Shut up!" she yelled, "Just- just shut up! And stay away from my family!"

But instead of anger or fear at Blake's sudden and undignified outburst, Yang's face just turned _concerned, _making Blake's stomach _roil._

"Hey… Blake, I'm sorry, I didn't realize-"

"We don't _need _you!" she spat, _"Jaune _doesn't need you!"

"I'm sorry, I really-"

Stumbling away, Blake broke into a run, forgetting to even try to conceal herself in a shadow as instinct took over and she just had to get _away _from this woman!

**Pyrrha's line about black and murderous rage comes from the Lombardo translation of the opening lines in _The Iliad. _Pyrrha is Achilles, after all.**

**In a couple of my stories, I like playing with Vale's cultural identity. In Let The Dead Lie, Jaune and Cinder's home was based on Languedoc. In Pairs Well With Courage, the Arcs are from a version of Bordeaux, and it also gave me the idea to have Patch be basically Texas. Combining those two, I've made the decision that Vale City is Franco-American, which is to say... New Orleans and Saint Louis. And, as such, it's good seafood, pastries, and characters are going to have strong opinions on pizza that utterly bewilder anyone not from Vale.  
**

**Act 1 ended with Jaune and Weiss reassuring each other that they were okay, Act 2 ends with Yang and some other students fearlessly breaking through their barriers. It's really funny to me that Yang's now 3-0 with the claimed, but things are kind of on an upswing, so that's good! And the next act shows more goofing off, _even more conspiracies,_ Jaune making his move against Remnant's geopolitical sphere, Yang meets her limits, a total mental breakdown, and froggos. I'm excited for it.**

**Thanks to Renarde and Danish for feedback on the Act, and, really, thanks to all of you who've commented, faved, followed, or otherwise been a great audience for this story so far! I hope you enjoy Act 3!  
**


	12. Good For What Ails You

Qrow was cynical. Summer was motherly (sometimes more in the mama bear sense). Glynda was strict. Ozpin was some kind of wizard man who still had more mysteries than answers and was probably making up at least 50% of everything he said.

But Amber was the fun one.

And for once, she wasn't wandering the wilderness, prowling for what Grimm hives still remained. She was in the _city. _In Vale! She could go shopping and visit chic restaurants and gawk like a tourist, and she didn't even have to be worried about getting assassinated, because literally _everyone _was paying _way _more attention to what was going on with the Grimm kids!

Sucked that she had to spend so much time doing boring security work, though. Like right now, she and Qrow were standing outside a room where Summer was having a meeting with Fall.

Yeah, "meeting."

It was more like a rampant bitchfest where Fall accused Summer and Ozpin and Vale and every conceivable person and place under the sun of conspiring to sabotage the visit. All fake, but just to put enough accusations in the air that her _own _obvious attempts to subvert things (gee, isn't it convenient that Roman Torchwick just _happened _to step up the scale of his operations right when Fall showed up?) would seem like a he-said-she-said situation.

And the worst part was that Amber had to be "professional" for the whole thing. Which meant standing outside the door. Being bored. Not even able to chat with Qrow who wasn't the best conversationalist, but teasing him was _way _better than doing _nothing. _Especially when she was used to being out into the wilds, where she could throw some magic around if she got bored!

At least, and this was a _very _minor least, she didn't actually have to sit in on the meeting Summer was in right now with Fall. But that just meant she'd have to sit through the post-meeting meeting, and probably a _debrief _after that, because _nothing _could be done at Beacon unless it was discussed in at least _four meetings!_

Yeah, Amber was really starting to feel _real _cooped up in here.

It was made worse by the fact that she actually had gotten a night off, what with the Council responsible for security at the kids' party, and she and Qrow (and _Clover, _which Qrow had bribed her 30 lien to not tell Summer that they were hanging out) hit the town and really got to cut loose. Judging that Qrow was approximately old as dirt, Amber had elected that he did not require a chaperone and ditched him to what he _insisted _was not a date (lies upon lies) to check out the nightlife.

Ah, what she wouldn't give to be back in the city, shopping and partying and not having to be "the great and terrible Fall Maiden." She could just have _fun._

But, alas, as Ozpin was always telling her, great powers came with great responsibility, and that meant being on door duty when-

She heard footsteps. Someone running. Qrow had heard them as well, and readied his hand to his weapon, Amber… tried to get the magic flowing, not entirely sure how to be ready for whatever was coming.

Well, that _whatever_ happened to be one of the claimed. The princess, the one who didn't seem all that changed, but gave Qrow the _creeps. _And gave Amber… a little less than that, but yeah, still a little… off. And she seemed really freaked out.

"INEEDTOSEEMSFALL!" she bolted out.

Qrow evidently couldn't make more sense out of it than Amber was.

"I'm- _what?_"

"MS. FALL!" she yelled, "NOW!"

"Hold on, you can't enter-"

Waiting, however, was not an option. Amber practically stumbled backwards as the girl's flesh just… _morphed, _losing its form and shape as her… hands shot forward, like a pair of fleshy tentacles, taking the door _clear off its hinges_ before Amber even realized what was going on.

Qrow screamed, and a voice in the back of Amber's head told her that she was never going to forget that part of this moment.

"Emerald!"

Amber had never thought she'd be _relieved _to hear Fall's intensely bitchy voice, but from the way the girl _froze _(and, thankfully, snapped back to a _less_ nightmare-inducing form), Amber couldn't help but exhale a sigh of relief.

"M-Ms. Fall!" she blurted out in a panic, "J-Jaune's hurt! He's been _p-poisoned!"_

_That _got Amber and Qrow out of their shock. Poison? Ohhhhhhh, that was _bad. _She looked to Qrow, now in a panic of her own, but the grizzled Huntsman was clearly already running the options through his head—possible poisoners, their poisons, the-

"He is not poisoned."

Amber's eyes shot to Fall, who hardly seemed even slightly discomposed as she confidently stated something Amber didn't believe that she was capable of: that there was no problem and nobody was at fault.

"B-but… he's really-"

"He is hungover."

Amber's jaw _dropped _at that, but it seemed that Cinder was more than prepared to give an explanation.

Turning to Summer, her voice took on a tone of muted triumph—triumphant, but not _appearing _to be so. "As I was _telling _you, your 'party' idea resulted in a group of Huntsmen-in-training supplying _alcohol _to a minor, and I expect-"

Vacuo practically snapped to attention (possibly literally—Amber did not _want _to think of how her body worked on the inside) "Shall- shall I enact my Prince's justice upon them, Ms. Fall? I can be swift as-"

"Emerald..." Fall said through gritted teeth, "what have we said about what you say _in front of outsiders?"_

That made the girl suddenly and furiously blush, her eyes shooting right to her shoes.

"I'll take care of this," Fall said to Summer, "We will continue this meeting when we-"

"This is a health issue and it's involving students," Summer cut her off, "I'm going _with._"

"You are not to-"

"Wh-what should I do?" Vacuo asked, and Amber realized the girl was practically _shaking. _They really were siblings, weren't they? And she was just _terrified _for her only brother's safety and well-being...

Fall whirled between Summer and Vacuo, clearly flustered and, much like with Qrow, a small part of the back of Amber's mind filed away her pleasure at seeing the woman so out of sorts.

"You… stay here, Emerald. Your Prince is alright, he just... needs rest and quiet, and that means you all need to _calm down. _I will go-"

Summer, however, was already leaving.

"Alright, let's move," she barked to Fall. "Amber, Qrow, stay here with her, we'll come down for her once the boy's alright."

The two of them practically raced off, both childishly trying to be the first to get to the scene, leaving Qrow and Amber and an _utterly bewildered _teenage girl-monster to figure out exactly what they were going to be doing until orders came in.

Vacuo glanced to them. Amber just kind of stared back. She was sure Qrow wasn't doing much better. They'd just seen her skin and body turn into putty and, yeah, _that _had been a big revelation on what she was capable of.

But… Amber supposed… she was still a kid. And… that meant Amber... had to be the adult…

As reluctant as that thought made her, she had to say _something_.

"So!" she tried to sound cheerful, "How was the party?"

With a look of pure _how could you ask that? _Qrow stared at her in disbelief.

"Um..." Vacuo began, uncertainly, "It was… fun..."

She fidgeted. _Adorably. _

Amber couldn't help but smile. "Well, I know Summer hooked you guys up last night with pizza. Brio's is the good-"

"Gods above!" Qrow exploded, "You got them _Valean _pizza? What, did you _want _to start a-"

"Just ignore him," Amber quietly said to Vacuo, "He's Mistralian and just making a show about how much he hates Valean pizza."

And the fight was on.

"I'm a _human being," _Qrow exploded, "and that's why I hate what you call 'Pizza.' You make your cheese out of plastic and you put it on a _cracker._"

"Valean cuisine brings together all the best features of Mistral and Vacuo and-"

"YOU CUT YOUR BAGELS LIKE BREAD SLICES!"

"I thought it was nice..." the girl shyly interrupted them.

Amber fist pumped; Qrow knew he couldn't get into an argument with one of the claimed. So, instead, he took a conciliatory note. "...you just haven't had good pizza yet. I'll have Glynda order lunch for you guys from Nero's, then you'll see that Amber's just been leading you astray."

"_Nero's!" _Amber cried out in protest, "Now I _know _you're just trying to get under my skin by suggesting they get that tomato casserole!"

Qrow launched into a _passionate _defense of Northern Mistralian pizza, with a highly detailed explanation of Mistral's pizza regions and their various pros and cons, including a long discussion on "mouth feel," which Amber was _sure _he was making up. But it seemed to cheer Vacuo up quite a bit, to see the two "adults" (Amber was still in her 20s! Her prime! She was _hip, _dammit!) so playfully bicker on this.

"Um… can I ask you something?" the girl, who had, a minute ago, asked to "conduct justice" with a clearly violent implication, interrupted their discussion with a hesitant, tremulous voice.

"Sure!" _don't be weird don't be weird don't be about your weird flesh shaping deal._

"Do you know… how to tell if..." she took a deep, nervous gulp, "if I'm a _lesbian?_"

Amber had not expected that. But now she was thinking of that question in the immediate context of the flesh tentacles and _ewwwwwww._

Thank the Maidens (including herself) that Qrow, of all people, stepped in. "Do you think you might be one?"

"I… I don't know… not for sure?"

Qrow chuckled, and Amber felt damn thankful he was taking point on this one. "Ah… it's something you should probably talk with… somebody other than me, but… as far as I can tell, it's not like there's some great switch that gets flipped and you realize, 'Hey, I'm gay.' Everybody I've ever talked to's got a different story, some people learn things about themselves later in life they thought they already knew, and, hey, there's no sin in being unsure about yourself."

For a man who… _never _opened up about _anything _talking to a girl who was raised by the Queen of Evil and had crazy monster powers… that had not been a bad speech from Qrow. Especially the "should probably talk to someone other than him."

But she guessed the other option for this was Fall, and Amber could tell that he was probably a step up from that.

"So," Qrow continued, "if you think you like girls, nobody's gonna judge you for it here, and if you've gotta spend some time figuring yourself out, I know I certainly did when I was your age."

"Yang's a lesbian," Amber cheerfully contributed, a detail she'd subtly picked up from the girl _hilariously _yelling it at her mother when proposing the idea of a party, "I'm sure she'd be happy to talk to you about what her experience has been like, give you some advice."

"Wait…" some realization seemed to be passing across Vacuo's—no, _Emerald's—_face. "Wait, was that why Blake went to Yang's dorm last night? Is… is Blake a-"

"She did _what?_" Qrow snapped, and Amber realized that, maybe something had been said that Qrow shouldn't have heard.

* * *

Pyrrha gripped her brother's arm, desperately _praying _that this wasn't the sign of something worse to come. Weiss desperately worked incantation after incantation, trying to fix whatever was _wrong _with him, but it didn't seem to be a wound or something they understood. Pyrrha thought of taking _vengeance, _but it brought her no comfort. She would rather have Jaune well than _anything else _in the world, and any imagined consolation would just be a reminder of what she had to lose.

Jaune groaned, rubbing his temples. Pyrrha cursed, wishing he only had received more _gifts _of the Pool, so that he wouldn't have these human frailties. She had… in dark, secret moments, Pyrrha had wondered if Jaune shouldn't be… given another chance to receive more from the Darkness… but Pyrrha reminded herself that she _loved _Jaune for his humanity, his untainted purity, but she still couldn't _bear _to see the weakness that came with it!

"Ms. Fall's coming," Blake quietly informed her, "with another—I suspect Mrs. Rose."

Pyrrha bristled at that, but she had to remind herself: she'd sent Emerald to get _help, _and Mrs. Rose… might actually be able to help Jaune where Pyrrha failed.

To make her feel even _more _useless.

The door opened, and Blake's senses were correct. The two women walked in, though their gait and bearing lacked the _urgency _Pyrrha would have expected of this situation. A momentary flare of anger surged, but she kept her temper in check. She wasn't mad at _them, _she just needed somewhere to vent, and Jaune would... Jaune would want her to stay calm. To stay in control.

"Yep," chuckled Mrs. Rose, oblivious to how close her head and neck had come to parting, "it's a hangover."

Pyrrha felt a _snarl _form in her throat, but Ms. Fall was quick to make explanation. "The Prince will be alright. It's a minor ailment caused by… _consuming alcohol,_" she said with an accusatory hiss towards Mrs. Rose.

She didn't seem to notice the attack. Indeed, she took it with good humor. "Well, young man, you've just taken part in an honored Beacon tradition," she took a seat by his bedside, "Desperately trying to cover up that you drank too much last night before classes start and you've got to sit through a lecture while your head _throbs."_

"I- I didn't-" Jaune stammered, "I didn't drink anything..."

"Ha!" Mrs. Rose slapped her knee, "_Another _hallowed tradition! But you're alright—my kids didn't drink anything—they didn't, right?" she shot a piercing look right at Pyrrha, silver eyes flashing and, briefly, making Pyrrha feel the _force _behind them.

"N-no!" she protested, "We just had… we had… regular drinks!"

"Brand name pop," Blake whispered to Ms. Fall, "So notify Dr. Watts we won't go back to generic after this."

Pyrrha didn't miss how Ms. Fall had to suppress a _smile _at that. But Mrs. Rose's attention had turned back to Jaune. "I'm not gonna get you in trouble, kiddo. But for my curiosity, what'd you drink?"

"...Scotch?" he groaned.

Ms. Fall nodded at that; Mrs. Rose gave another laugh. "Ha, classy. Thought you'd have loaded up on cheap beer or something, what with how students usually drink. Anyways… I asked for Glynda to bring- and there she is!"

There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Rose quickly got up from her seat and received a plastic bag from the Deputy Headmistress. Taking it back to Jaune, she pulled out a glass, cracked an egg into it, then spooned in some kind of green goop from a jar, sprinkled it with chocolate chips, added water, a few more packets of… stuff, and then slipped in a single green leaf before stirring.

"It's the hangover cure I used back when I was at Beacon," she explained, "Believe me, this _works, _and it works miracles when you need to sober up fast."

"Oh?" Ms. Fall sneered, "I didn't take you for a _drunkard._"

But Mrs. Rose breezed past the jab. "Qrow and I used to close the bars _out. _Good times, but we'd developed a little pick-me-up to get through the worst of it. Still had tests, even if we'd spent the night partying."

Pyrrha didn't consume food like a human did, merely converting matter into Grimmstuff, but even she was skeptical that this… _thing _would be swallowable, much less _medicine. _But she was desperate. She needed _somebody _to know what they were doing.

As Jaune cautiously sipped the disgusting mix, he quickly _retched _from the taste.

"Yep… hold it down, you've almost got it…" Mrs. Rose encouraged, and, slowly but surely, Jaune downed the whole concoction. "Yeah, you'll be feeling better in a moment."

And… he did. He looked better, at least. His eyes seemed to clear, his face not _flinching _with every loud noise or bright light, and Pyrrha could finally let out a sigh of relief, a sigh that made her realize she had been holding her breath. There was a wave of gratitude that _swept_ through her as Weiss threw her hands around Jaune, doing what Pyrrha was simply too reserved to do... or just too _timid._

She felt a hand on her back, and she turned to see Blake signalling her to follow behind to a more private location.

Loathe to leave her brother's side, but clearly seeing that this was important to Blake, Pyrrha, reluctantly, followed her lead.

"What's wrong, Blake?" Pyrrha asked. She was businesslike—she knew Blake wouldn't loop her in on emotionally sensitive matters: this was something that needed to be handled with raw, uncompromising _force._

"You spoke with Xiao Long last night."

It sounded… almost like an accusation, and Pyrrha coming off an _emotional_ morning, didn't like her tone.

"I did," she said, plainly, with no apology or explanation.

"What do you think of her interest in our brother?"

Pyrrha rolled her eyes. Blake could get paranoid at times, in her constant search for hidden danger. "She just wants to be friends," she told Blake.

In all the panic of this morning, Pyrrha hadn't had time to think about her _wonderful _conversation she'd had with Yang the previous night. For the first time in her life, Pyrrha had _admitted _(well, not… so much admitted, but certainly implied!) that she had feelings for Jaune. And Yang hadn't judged her—Yang had told her it was alright! She'd promised to _help!_

"You know she _wants _him, right?"

Pyrrha stilled at that.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on!" Blake gave her an intense look, "Why do you _think _she was trying to get close to us? Spending all this effort to try and get _close? _Do you think she _doesn't _have an agenda?"

"I… I thought she was just friendly," Pyrrha mumbled, embarrassed.

"Who have we ever known to actually care about us, who wasn't one of us?"

Pyrrha… Pyrrha had no rebuttal for that.

"But… she's not… _interested _in Jaune, actually, she asked about you!"

And then Pyrrha blushed, realizing that she'd just admitted that they had discussed Blake. Blake probably knew about it, she sniffed out secrets so easily. But still, it was another thing to admit that she'd given Yang a detail description of her sister's personality, her likes and dislikes, and had done so much to help her... make a move.

But Blake wasn't focused on that.

"She's interested in Jaune. Trust me. Whether for his _position, _or her own… interests, I don't know. But I don't trust her, or anything she says, and _you shouldn't either."_

Pyrrha stiffened at that. Her words were concerning, but there was another matter here: Pyrrha didn't take orders from Blake.

"I'll take your words into consideration," she responded gruffly, and from the look on Blake's face, she picked up that she'd crossed a line. "If you have anything more to report, let myself, Ms. Fall, or Jaune know."

Then she turned from Blake to return to her brother's side, only to feel Blake's hand again on her shoulder.

"Pyrrha..." Blake mumbled, softly, "I… this isn't easy, but… you're our _protector. _I need to know..."

Pyrrha looked at her sister carefully. Blake didn't show vulnerability easily, and… Pyrrha was worried about Yang. Was worried now that she _was_ plotting something… perhaps to have Pyrrha make a fool of herself and then sweep in? She didn't know. And she didn't like that. And the person who would know... was Blake.

"If Yang is a danger to our brother," she replied, "she will come to regret it. All of _Vale _will come to regret it."

And Blake exhaled, an undeniable sign of relief. Pyrrha couldn't shake the feeling she might have just been played, but… she was their protector. She would do whatever it took to keep her family safe.

* * *

Pyrrha, Blake, Emerald, and Cinder had all given him a rather severe talking to. And Weiss… Weiss had just hugged him and, stifling tears, asked him to _never _make her worry about him like that _again._

Jaune felt wretched for having put them all through, but at the same time… he really loved his family, and feeling just how worried they all were for him was very nice.

And even though he would never admit it, it felt kind of good to… misbehave? He'd done something nobody wanted him to do, he'd _broken the law… _even if he wasn't beholden to the laws of Vale, and _for once, _he wasn't under the iron law of Mother's rule and had done something… something for himself. It felt a little nice to be a little selfish, to do something that was inadvisable and ill-planned.

Even though he'd given his sisters a scare this morning, Jaune couldn't deny, it seemed like they'd had a good time the night before. Weiss in particular, which did _so much good _for Jaune's heart, especially the way she had been eagerly filling him in all about "Ruby Rose," who was apparently Yang's sister? Though Jaune wasn't sure of that—the last names didn't match, and Jaune was _confident _they were too young to get married.

"Hey Blake," he asked his sister on his way to breakfast (Weiss's request to get to have breakfast with the faculty—really, just an excuse to ask for more stories from Professor Port—had been cleared with Mrs. Rose and the Headmaster), "What's your take on how last night went, from your end?"

Blake was careful, measuring her words before she spoke.

"I would say the event, overall, went well—you certainly seemed to have fun," she teased him, "But on our end, things went well, particularly for Weiss, Emerald, and Pyrrha."

"And for you?"

"...Ms. Valkyrie is a… rather _boisterous _personality."

Jaune had to chuckle at that. Much like the Grimm, strong emotions weren't easy for the Darkness inside them. Negativity made them aggressive, particularly when they could taste fear, but positive emotions could _grate. _Jaune was very good at tuning it out, but his sisters rather preferred not to deal with overly cheery personalities.

Not that they met that many of those in the Grimmlands.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind. Really glad to hear that things went well, though!"

Jaune's mood was really on an upswing, and he was really happy to hear that the night had gone well. Cinder, in between admonishing him for getting so irresponsibly drunk (and with likely a degree of bitterness that he perceived Arthur as "the fun one"), had mentioned that the Beacon faculty was putting together a field excursion for them, and that Yang Xiao Long had volunteered her team (Team Y-R-R-N, spelled that way for… some reason) to serve as their escort. Jaune was excited for that. One, to get even more opportunities for him and his sisters to _finally _socialize with someone actually their own age, and two, because he was hoping to get to know Yang better. From last night, he'd learned that Yang was considered exceptional, even among her peers, and he'd never really met anyone who was so… fearless. Who _else _would see the five of them and set out to help them socialize better?

Oh! And Weiss might get a chance to see a frog! That would mean the _world _to her.

"There is one thing, though, that I really would caution you about, Jaune."

Pausing a moment for the gravity of Blake's words, seeming to be something she was almost reluctant to tell him, Jaune nodded, signaling for her to continue.

"I don't trust Yang."

Jaune almost stopped walking as he heard that. Pyrrha had _raved _about Yang—well, raved _by Pyrrha's standards, _not literally, but that was a huge deal! "You don't… do you think she's..." Jaune dropped his voice, "Valean intelligence?"

"No. She's just… be careful with her, Jaune. Not every woman you meet has… your best interest in mind. And you need to remember that as nice as some people seem, _they're not family, _and they never will be. They _don't _understand."

Nodding soberly, Jaune had to agree with Blake's assessment. Yang was really impressing Jaune, but he'd only really had the shortest of conversations, just after she'd beat him up. He… did have a tendency to see the best in people, sometimes rather naively, and he appreciated Blake's counsel in this.

"Any particular concerns about her? I'd appreciate a rundown of what you learned last night, and if any-"

Blake suddenly got nervous. "Perhaps… it would be better if we talked about this later, in private?"

Reasonable. And he didn't doubt Blake had kept an eye on their sisters as well. "Of course," he told her, "we can discuss this later."

**Thanks to Renarde and Danish for feedback!**

**Opinions on St. Louis's pizza are going to be a major theme in this story, so for the 90% of the world that has no idea that it's a thing: sorry. But yeah, as many predicted, Jaune did get a hangover that none of the claimed were equipped to handle in the least. And we're continuing some points from the party—Emerald continues to discern her identity, Blake continues to move against Yang, though she's probably not as dangerous as what _Qrow _has in store for Yang, and Summer gets to mom it up. Act 3's all about the kids getting their footing in the world of Remnant, with both threats they don't understand (like alcohol!) and people they'll learn they can trust (like Qrow and Amber!), but sometimes... those lines are harder to draw than we'd like.  
**


	13. The Raven

As far as Yang was concerned, having been held at knifepoint by one of the claimed was more of a "gonna tell my grandkids about that" moment than a cause for alarm. _Yes, _her mom had gone over and over about how she couldn't treat them like they were just normal kids, but _come on! _Pyrrha had made it clear that Blake was just gonna try to intimidate her, and Yang had held her own. Sounded more like hazing than a real threat, and, frankly, Yang was glad they'd broken down those barriers.

They'd hung out. Had pizza. The boys did something _utterly moronic _(more the inviting Sun and Neptune part, Yang had _respect _for the move with the liquor). Talked about boys they liked (and talked about girls, from what she'd heard from Velvet!). _Chillaxed._

For once in their lives, Jaune, Pyrrha, Emerald, Blake, and Weiss got to be treated _like they were normal kids _and they'd had a good time! Maybe Jaune didn't, judging from Ren's assessment of how much that boy drank, but he had a pit of Grimmstuff for a stomach and, according to the Prince himself, was immune to poisons. He'd be fine!

So this whole "summoned to Professor Goodwitch's Office" deal was, by Yang's estimation, probably nothing. And if it wasn't, she had a perfect argument in her defense: throw Team SSSN under the bus because, realistically, it was entirely their fault.

Sun probably wouldn't even disagree with her decision making there.

Making a point to stride into the meeting room confidently, Yang saw that she was the last to arrive—which was kind of a good thing, but at the same time, made her panic that she might be late. She knew to keep her cool, though, and act like it was all on purpose. Glancing at the table, she saw that there was a seat for her next to her mom, with Goodwitch at the head of the table.

Seated across from her was Jaune (alive—good sign) with Pyrrha and Blake. No sign of "Ms. Fall," which kind of surprised her—Yang had thought she was in charge of this whole thing. According to Pyrrha, she was Jaune's subordinate, but having seen the two of them… yeah, she didn't _really _buy it.

Altogether, it didn't _seem _like a bitch-out session, so Yang took her seat, feeling her stomach roll a bit at the unknown of it all. But with her arrival, Goodwitch shuffled her papers and signaled she wouldn't have to wait long for explanation as she opened her mouth to speak.

"On behalf of Beacon Academy, and the Council of Vale, I'd like to congratulate you all for a successful intercultural exchange event."

A _what? _Wait, was she getting praised for the party?

Trying not to boggle at the experience of getting called to Goodwitch's office for _good _reasons, she listened attentively as the professor continued. "I believe that the four of you have no need to be told about the success of the evening, in spite of… certain matters, but I, and Headmaster Ozpin, were delighted to hear that you all had a good night. And," she looked directly to Yang, her voice growing softer, more personal, "in particular, it does my heart good to hear that a student of Beacon was so willing to reach out even when others did not. You did good Yang."

She felt her mom reach over to give her hand a squeeze. Ugh, Yang didn't need her mom to _embarrass _her in front of the claimed! But… it did feel nice to know she was proud of her. Her mom was _beaming, _which, especially after how their meeting to _propose _the idea ended, made Yang feel a lot better.

But Yang couldn't help but feel that there was something… else going on at the other side of the table.

They were being praised by authority figures for having done a good job, but instead of open smiles, now _Pyrrha _was looking at her with a… not exactly a wariness, but something like what Yang saw in her opponents before a fight. A probing look, a cautiousness that Yang had thought they'd gotten past after their talk at the party.

She and P-money had really bonded, or, at least, Yang _thought _they had. Food seemed to be her weakness, and her impressively disciplined poker face had no recourse for Yang asking her if she'd ever had Yakisoba or barbecue or pierogis or any number of foods where Yang knew an excellent spot in Vale they had to check out some time. It turned out, sneaking off into the city wasn't just a "reckless disregard for school rules," but a key strategy to get an internationally-significant figure to open up and start talking about _herself, _about what she wanted from the trip, her cute crush on the Prince and how important her family was to her. But now she seemed… much more like the Pyrrha Yang had first seen at the party, stiff and on her guard.

And Jaune wasn't much better. Boy wore his emotions on his sleeve once you realized that he was doing everything he could to hide them, and he was definitely conflicted about something. A something that was probably seated right next to him.

That Blake didn't like her wasn't a surprise, considering the business with the knife and the whole "stay away from my family" deal, but Yang now realized that, at some point after the party, Blake had likely spoken to the both of them, and in that time, she'd said something that had undone some of her work to get them to open up. Well... fair enough. Yang could deal with that.

Goodwitch was detailing the plans for a "joint field exercise" in the Emerald Forest, where Team YRRN would escort the claimed through a practice mission. As though kids who could command Grimm with a word (unless Pyrrha was exaggerating, but… Yang didn't' get that impression) would need any kind of escort for a mission. Yang was listening, but her focus was still on the claimed.

She had to remind herself that Blake wasn't _wrong _to be worried. As sincere as Yang's intentions were, they had no way of knowing it. The eyes of the world were upon them, and not everyone had good intentions. According to P-girl, Blake was sort of the political advisor to the family, the one who hunted out threats, and, yeah, from her perspective, a girl trying to win points with her brother and sister would be a cause for _more _suspicion, not less.

But Yang was also confident that she had really made a _breakthrough _with Pyrrha the other night. The sort of thing where she'd said things so freely and carelessly that it was clear she really just wanted someone to _talk _to!

"I think that sounds acceptable," Jaune said in reply to Goodwitch's outline of the plan, "I hope that this joint exercise helps demonstrate the importance of peace and cooperation between all of us. And I expect it to be a good opportunity to continue to develop the bonds we've begun to form here at Beacon."

But Yang didn't quite agree with that assessment. The Prince didn't know, of course, but Goodwitch's plan was the safe and, importantly, _boring_ option. They had just made major progress by getting _away _from the constraints of constant adult supervision. A field mission with Goodwitch, Ms. Fall, Ozpin (admittedly, not so much a concern), and her _mom _breathing down their necks… everything would be anxious and stressful, and the claimed would clam up, just like they were doing now!

"May I suggest something?" Yang asked.

Goodwitch seemed wary to give her the floor, but even she had to acknowledge that Yang had been doing a pretty good job so far. "Go ahead," she replied, a little warily.

"Going out into the Emerald Forest, particularly with _who _we're going with… I don't think it's necessary that mom and the Headmaster accompany us. Or… anyone. Think of Initiation!" Yang quickly blurted out, cutting off the obviously-coming objection, "We got to meet our teams, got a chance to figure each other out _without _anyone supervising us. It'd be a good chance to let us all stretch our legs, enjoy the outside, and, really, we're not in any danger with," she gestured to the claimed, "them watching our backs."

Goodwitch exchanged a quick look with her mom. It was… weird to see _Professor Goodwitch _being deferential, least of all to her own _mother, _but Yang knew that her mom had her back. And, like the party, Yang was confident this was a good idea. Let the Grimm kids know that they _trusted _them, that they could get _away _from the stress and the scrutiny for a moment… and then Blake could see that Yang _didn't_ mean any harm to her family.

And, yeah, she might have played her cards too strong, but Yang _liked _a girl who'd hold her at knifepoint… she liked people who knew what they wanted and _didn't hold back._

Also, she was super hot, with the whole black-and-white thing she had going on… mmmm, yeah, Yang _definitely _was interested in getting to know Blake better!

It seemed that Blake picked up on Yang's gaze, though, and she shot her an aggrieved, scandalized _look _that made Yang realize that, once again, she was coming on too strong here. Reign it in a little and all, considering that these were, you know, hostages from the Grimmlands and not, like, making her move on Nebula Violette.

"I have some concerns with Ms. Xiao Long's proposal," Blake cut in, sounding quite a bit more like Ms. Fall than the girl who'd spent an evening fruitlessly arguing with Nora about the virtues of waffles over pancakes, "Moving us away from our secured site could put us at risk—I make no accusations against our hosts," tone of voice suggested that wasn't entirely true, "but there are other parties who might take advantage of the opportunity."

Goodwitch nodded gravely. "I'm sorry, Yang, but I have to agree with that assessment. "

"But haven't we proven that we can be trusted to manage something as simple as a prac op in the Em?" Jaune stared at her blankly until Blake whispered an explanation of the slang into his ear, "I mean, we were at way more danger downtown than we'd be in the Forest, right?"

Unfortunately, Yang's arguments weren't going anywhere (what she wouldn't give to have _Ren _here right now...) and her mother now was putting her foot down. "Yang, I know you-"

"I… I actually would… like to have a chance to go out into the forest" Pyrrha timidly (_still _a shock to hear the walking tank sound so timid) cut in. Her words were clearly directed to Jaune alone, and Yang couldn't help but notice how _nervous_ she was to speak up in his presence. Girl had it _bad. _But she sighed and continued, "It would be… I would actually like to have a chance to get outside. By ourselves. Not be cooped up, and..." she trailed off.

Whatever she meant, Jaune and Blake picked it up. They exchanged a meaningful look, and then Jaune turned to Goodwitch.

"May we have a… moment to discuss?"

"We'll give you the room," Goodwitch replied, and with that, Yang was ushered out into the hallway.

* * *

Emerald didn't know _why _she was following Amber and Qrow, but they hadn't asked her to leave and she… kind of liked them? After dinner (for once, without any guests to entertain, so they could actually relax a bit), she'd caught sight of them, and, not knowing what else to do, she'd tagged along. Jaune, Blake, and Pyrrha had a meeting, and she'd slipped Weiss another coloring book (this one had Huntsmen in it, which she'd pocketed for Weiss after her sudden enthusiasm into that profession), so Emerald just had nowhere else to go. But they… seemed happy to see her. They _wanted _to talk to her. Something Emerald really wasn't used to. Everyone at Beacon was nice: Coco and Velvet were nice, Amber and Qrow were nice, even _Yang _was actually nice once Emerald got to actually know her.

And that made Emerald wonder… was Ms. Fall nice?

She wasn't, really, was she? She… she was good at her job. And smart. And dangerous. And beautiful. And always in control. And very good at everything. But…

She wasn't nice.

And Emerald didn't know what to make of that.

Maybe… not everyone was nice? Maybe that was what she was supposed to learn from this. That she wasn't to be suckered by people who acted nice just to try to manipulate her, but Emerald was scared and she was really glad that she had people talking right now.

"All I'm saying is," Amber said, in between messy slurps of her milkshake, "Spruce Willis hasn't been in a good movie since I went off the grid-"

"This is _heresy,_" Qrow dramatically threw up his arms, "_Tower of Crisis _is _definitively _an all time great, and that alone earns him a pass! And, yeah, some of his recent work hasn't been great, but he can still put out a knockout performance!"

"Pfft, he barely even _acted _in his best movies, and now we're seeing him when he doesn't give a shit. Emerald knows what I'm talking about," she whirled on her, "I mean, you've seen..." her voice trailed off, obviously recognizing the blank _confusion _on Emerald's face. "Have you, um, seen many movies?"

Emerald suddenly felt very small and embarrassed. "No," she weakly admitted, "I… we didn't see a lot of movies growing up."

But rather than make fun of her… Qrow just lit up into a big smile, "Oh, you are in for a _treat-_"

"And here we go," Amber rolled her eyes.

Qrow ignored her. "-because I have an intercultural event to pitch to Summer and Glyn- err, to Mrs. Rose and the Deputy Headmistress," he corrected himself. "But really… I envy you. To be able to see _Tower of Crisis _for the first time, gods above, what I wouldn't give for that..."

He was rambling, now, dropping names of people who had… something to do with the movie. Emerald didn't know much about movies. Ms. Fall had had her watch a few, but they were always… weird. Like there were so many things she was _supposed _to recognize, supposed to understand, but she just… didn't. And she couldn't shake the feeling that she was _supposed _to be enjoying herself, supposed to be _getting it, _but she just...

"I… um," she struggled to put the words together in her mouth, "I haven't told anyone yet."

Qrow and Amber looked at her for a second, confused, until the meaning _clicked _in their mind, and they suddenly turned serious.

"Hey," Amber said, giving her hand a reassuring _pat, _"There's no rush. You can take it at your own pace-"

"But I don't _want _to wait!" she protested, "I just… I just want to be in the future, when I've already _told _them, without having to… go through the telling them, and seeing the… seeing the look on their faces when I tell them-"

"Hey, hey!" Qrow interrupted, "You don't _know _that they'll take it poorly—from what I've seen, you mean the _world _to your siblings, and… and I think Cinder- sorry, _Ms. Fall,_" he corrected himself again, "really does care about you."

She looked up, eyes wide at that. His face told her that he wasn't _wholly _sure he believed it, but Emerald was willing to _cling _to it, still.

"And if they really care for you now, they'll care for you when you're out. Believe me," he said, softly, "as lonely as the world might feel, you can find the people who'll care for you."

"Coming from experience?" Amber asked.

Qrow shrugged. "Well… I never really had a family that _cared _for me until after I figured out that I wasn't… like the other boys. My sister never judged me for that, but… she judged me for just about everything else. But my real family… they never thought of me any less, just because of who I was."

Real family. Her _real _family, with Jaune and Blake and Pyrrha and Weiss. Who didn't care that she wasn't a princess, didn't care that she was just some orphan from the streets. Who wouldn't... wouldn't think of her... any less...

"Actually," Qrow looked right past her, "there's somebody who can actually give you a good story about that. Hey Clover!" he yelled, and Emerald turned to see as Qrow made eye contact with an Atlesian Specialist, who turned to approach them.

"Qrow!" he cried, his voice boisterously cheerful, "Ha, didn't think I'd run into you here!"

"Trying to infiltrate Beacon? You should have known that I've got my eye on you," he teased, using a tone of voice Emerald wasn't sure she'd ever imagined the gruff Huntsman would use.

"This is Emerald," Amber added, cheerfully, "but I think you already knew that."

"Hey there, I'm Clover!" he waved to her, then pointed at her milkshake. "Strawberry? Good taste."

She could read his face, and he clearly recognized that she was one of the Daughters of Salem. But there was no shock or disgust or worry—if anything, he seemed… happy, to see that she was having a milkshake with two members of her security team. Genuinely happy for her. And what more, Emerald realized that she knew who this man was.

Specialist Clove Ebi. She'd read his dossier—a top tier Specialist known as a loyalist for General Ironwood and likely his chief deputy for coordinating AP-14-R-4, Atlas's plan to defeat Mother in a war, if Winter Schnee was likely to take up the role of the Maiden—and she knew he was… also the man Weiss had nearly killed.

"I, um," she mumbled, "I'm Emerald, and it's nice to meet you, and..." everything Ms. Fall had taught her about first impressions was crumbling in her mind, just like with Roman. But here… she couldn't just throw tentacles everywhere! Then they'd think she was—oh no, they'd already seen her use tentacles, the morning after the party! Oh no, oh no, she had to, had to think of _something to say to stop thinking about tentacles! _Like… Weiss!

"I'm really sorry that Weiss attacked you with a tentacle!" she blurted out.

Okay… that hadn't exactly worked, but it _had _changed the subject.

"Well," he shot her a dazzling grin, the sort of thing that Emerald _knew _was probably a trick… but she really wanted to believe it. "No offense to your sister, but believe me, she didn't do anything worse than _Winter's _put me through."

Everyone had a laugh about that, but Emerald remained wary. She… didn't exactly like reminders of their original families, especially because of what _hers _was.

But Qrow seemed to realize that now wasn't the time for humor. "Hey, I called you over because Emerald here could actually benefit to learn something from you—I know, I'm shocked too. Anyways, tell her what you told me about Atlas's culture and family expectations."

Clover's irrepressible cheerfulness seemed to deflate a bit at that, but in a way that seemed… Emerald didn't like how _complicated _everyone's emotions were, but it still seemed like a nice thing. "Atlas..." he sighed, long and weary, "I love my homeland, but there's… expectations. About the Family Line and the Family Name and making sure you keep the both of them _strong. _And when I told my father that I didn't _want _to marry a woman and father the next generation of Ebi children… he didn't so much take it well. I take it, you also..."

"I... think I'm gay," Emerald answered. "Now I've gotta tell my family that, and…"

"It's not easy?" Clover asked, and then she shook her head.

Emerald looked down. It wasn't easy, but the worst part was, she wasn't sure how to _explain _it. Maybe it'd all work out fine and it was all in her head? But she had to say _something._ "I'm… worried. I've never… felt like I really belong in my family, and," she swallowed, "what if this… what if this makes them realize I _don't _belong? That I'm _not _their sister."

Amber rested a hand on her shoulder, and though her instincts, her training, the very Darkness inside her told her to recoil at the touch of an enemy… It did feel nice. "I… don't know your siblings that well," she admitted, "but having to manage security for you five… you all really do care for each other. Especially Blake. I know what it looks like when… I know what it's like to find who does and who doesn't care for you, as a person."

"Yang vouches for your siblings," Qrow told her, "and as often as she makes _terrible _decisions… she's a good judge of character. When it counts, at least."

"Even if they're..." she swallowed. Now it was time to give voice to her voiceless fears, to conjure them into reality, draw them from the dark corners of her mind and admit they were _there. _"Even if we're not… actually my family?"

"You are family," Clover cut in. "I haven't been watching you like Amber and Qrow have been, but I know that Qrow called me over because I know that there's more than blood in a _family_. Emerald, I've learned more about being a good man from General Ironwood's example than I ever did from Seamus Ebi. And I'm sure you know that truth better than most."

He gave Emerald a knowing look.

She felt she understood it.

Jaune was her brother. Jaune… was her brother. Just like Blake was her sister. And Weiss, and… and Pyrrha. And.. she was their sister. Even if she was the fake, she'd _been _there, and they… they had been there for her. And… and she wanted to believe they'd be there for her still.

"It's… hard," she mumbled. "It's really hard."

But Clover just smiled at her and unclipped something from his uniform. "Here," he said, passing her a small tuft of fur at the end of a keychain, "My lucky rabbit's foot—I got it the day before I applied to Atlas Academy and it's looked after me ever since. But I can tell, you look like you could use some good luck right now. It'll see you through—you'll see."

She had no words. But with humbled grace, she accepted the lucky charm, feeling how soft, and yet, _weighty _it felt. Quietly, she pocketed it, knowing that it had

Emerald… didn't know what to make of these people. She'd spent so many years of her life learning infiltration, manipulation, how society _worked, _from the building blocks up. But it was all… theory. What did she actually know about people, what did she actually know about _anything? _

_That they like you, _a voice inside her spoke up, a voice she'd never heard before, _even if you don't, they do._

* * *

Weiss was the Raven—she was an excellent finder of valuable things. Blake sometimes called her the Magpie, but that wasn't fair. She didn't hoard things, she just found them and appreciated them. Sometimes she played with them a little. Felt the emotions buried in them.

She also was looking for snacks and she knew her sisters always kept little stashes of food in their hidey holes. Emerald's were usually the best, so she started with her. Maybe she'd have another coloring book, too!

Tracing her sister's scent was easy, and she found, in a crack, her aims. Emerald always had the best treats, but here in Beacon, she could steal entire cases of candy bars! Weiss eagerly snatched up as many as she could without being caught, knowing to eat the wrappers, too, so she left no trace of her thievery.

Tasty! Tasty tasty! Weiss loved chocolate! And-

Oops.

She'd eaten the case. Emerald was going to be mad, wasn't she? Weiss wasn't supposed to steal, especially not from her sisters, and she was really worried Emerald would go to Jaune. But Emerald had been weird recently, especially around Jaune. So maybe… she wouldn't get in trouble?

But she figured… she might as well keep digging. Each of her sisters kept a special treasure, and Weiss loved taking them out and holding them, even if she got in trouble for it. She liked feeling it, feeling her sisters' feelings on them and snuggling them close to her. Emerald's was a little book, and it wasn't hard to find it—it was the one thing that felt happy in her nook.

_An Illustrated Guide To The Shrikes of Remnant _by Dr. Lane Ustinov, a fancy and well-worn book that Jaune had gotten Emerald for her birthday. It was full of big words that didn't make much sense. Weiss could read (Jaune taught her!), but she didn't know what "ornithology" was, or what a "corvid" was supposed to be, but she could feel how much Emerald cherished the book. She'd read it when she was sad, and Weiss could feel her quiet, secret prayers that she could be like her sisters. That she could be normal and accepted and loved by Jaune. And all her sorrows and fears, that she was the fake, the one that didn't belong. That there was another Emerald, who'd be better than she was.

Weiss didn't know why Emerald thought she wasn't the best Emerald. She was the only Emerald Weiss knew, and she was the Emerald that had gotten Weiss her coloring books for the trip. Like the one with the frogs! She was the best Emerald Weiss knew. Emerald was nice, but all her sisters were nice. They all loved her, and Weiss wished she wasn't so broken that she could be nice to them back.

But thinking about her sisters made Weiss miss them. She wanted to remind herself of them, to surround herself with their mementos and feel the emotions of their deepest selves, so she could feel closer to them. So she slipped the book back into Emerald's hidey hole, and decided to keep looking for other precious things.

Summoning a portal, she slipped her arm into Pyrrha's Armory, reaching past all the pristine and deadly weapons she kept stored. They meant nothing to her, nothing more than tools, and were as dull and uninspired as rocks. She knew Pyrrha would be mad that she went into her Armory, especially as deep as she was going, but that just meant she couldn't get caught.

But she found what she was looking for, wrapping her fingers around the hilt of the broken sword as she pulled it forth from the Darkness. It was warm with secret pride, the joy of a challenging fight. Weiss didn't know the story, but she could feel it on the broken blade—a fight against a Grimm, a big one, with only her short sword, which broke on the Grimm's thick armor. But Pyrrha won. And she was thrilled to win. Because it had been a hard fight, but Pyrrha was stronger. The toughest of them all. The Pyrrha that Weiss thought was just so cool and super and invincible.

Weiss was scared that she was seeing less and less of Pyrrha that wasn't about Jaune. She loved Jaune, loved her brother _so _much, but she loved Pyrrha, too! She wanted Pyrrha to be Pyrrha, to be her big sister who made her feel safe no matter what was out there, and she didn't want her to stop being Pyrrha because she thought Jaune wanted her to be less Pyrrha!

But… as she put Pyrrha's special sword back where it belonged, she felt that there was something else in the Armory, something Weiss didn't know. A new thing. Not a weapon. It was… soft. Not food. Not a weapon. She pulled it out.

Some kind of bunny? It didn't feel like Pyrrha. Didn't feel like anyone she knew. It was so sad, just to touch it. Weiss wanted to cry. It was missing something, and Weiss… Weiss knew that feeling. It was the feeling she felt when she saw the Pretty Lady in her dreams and she didn't like it. She quickly put the bunny back into the Armory, and tried to think of something else.

But now that she was peeking through her sisters' hiding places, she couldn't help herself. She skittered over to where Blake had her little hidey-hole, rummaging through the various treasures Blake had picked up from students and teachers and Ms. Fall, until she found what she was looking for. Something she liked even less than the sad bunny. The nightlight.

Sometimes… sometimes Blake scared her. And holding the nightlight in her hands, she felt all of Blake's darkest impulses imprinted deep into it. It was aglow with Blake's love, her total, pure love of their brother, but it was a grasping love, a scary love. She had broken the nightlight, and Weiss could feel the guilt, like a razor, slashing at her fingers. Blake _hated _herself for it, but… she cherished the stolen nightlight, because that night, _she'd _been the one to comfort Jaune through his night terrors. She had protected him through the dark. She could feel Jaune's desperation and fear and Blake's _desire _for him. To feel his need. To be the only one for him. And Weiss knew that feeling.

It was like Mother.

She realized she was crying. She couldn't stop. The thought of Blake, who always made her feel better, who slipped her little candies when she was upset and not telling anyone, the Blake who told her that she _wasn't _a monster after she had her tantrums, could be anything like Mother… Weiss couldn't stop crying. She didn't want it to be true, but the nightlight crackled and _hissed _with her desire and it scared her. It scared her so much.

And she didn't know how to make it stop.

**Thanks to Renarde and Danish for support and feedback!**

**So, some people have weighed in on their opinion of the ships in play here, and I think the bigger question is: are most of these characters _emotionally capable _of a healthy relationship right now? We've seen Jaune have a PTSD flashback, Pyrrha's slowly erasing herself for Jaune's sake, and Blake's intensely paranoid and controlling. One of the rules I had for this story is that each of the kids inherited something from Salem, and with some, it's more obvious than others, but they're all not good things to get. Yang's "treat them like normal kids" strategy has gone well _so far, _but... there are some fairly obvious flaws in her thinking. And there's a point where sheer self confidence hits its limit...**

**But that heavy stuff is a matter for future chapters, cause the next one is gonna be full of cute moments as we get another Weiss/Ruby scene! With frogs!  
**


	14. Field Trip

From the sky, the Emerald Forest glittered like its namesake gem. A lush, verdant picture of thriving arboreal life and a teeming ecosystem of unspoiled nature. Belying the fact that it was host to some of the deadliest monsters that still stalked the world.

Of course, the Grimm of the Emerald Forest were nothing against the ones who were stepping off the Bullhead.

And there wasn't a Grimm in all of Remnant that compared to Pyrrha.

But she had to admit, she was happy to get out of the school, glad that she had been so _insistent _to Blake and Jaune to take this chance to get to be back in the field, even if it looked nothing like the fields she was used to back home. Everything was green and noisy, so full of natural life, which made Pyrrha's skin prickle. Not like the way all the emotional energy at Beacon made her skin prickle, but more like… it was just so different, and she hadn't learned yet what it was _supposed_ to feel like.

But… she had to admit, she also felt something… comforting and familiar. _Grimm._ She could sense that, even if they weren't nearby, that she wasn't far from her kin. She could call them, if she wanted to. Draw the whole forest to her, marshal them into a proper horde. There weren't that many, but the oldest and most powerful of the race were still hidden deep within this forest, and with her leading, with her sisters by her side… it would be enough.

"Normally," the loud voice of Yang Xiao Long interrupted her thoughts, "we try to make cool entrances to missions, like get catapulted off a cliff or leap out of a Bullhead from the air."

Jaune shot her an incredulous look. "And, what, just parachute in?"

"Nah, half the fun is coming up with a landing strategy, like Ruby uses her scythe to swing on branches or I've got Ember Celica to propel me in midair like a badass. What'd you do if you had to jump out of a Bullhead?"

"Plummet to the ground and hope I live?"

Yang rolled her eyes. "You've _gotta_ try something with more panache. You're a _Prince; _it's expected. Blake, I bet _you _have all sorts of sick moves you can pull off—cats always land on their feet, after all!"

Blake just grunted and looked away, refusing to acknowledge Yang's comment. Probably good with the pun, but the tension between the two… Pyrrha didn't know _what _was going on, but she was worried about it. Not that Blake was giving her any indication of what she was really feeling. She'd been testy in the meeting when they had planning this, but she was much more reserved than the blunt way she'd warned her the morning after the party. Blake didn't often come to Pyrrha when something was troubling her personally, and after she'd rebuffed her that morning, she could see why Blake wouldn't do so again soon. Not that anyone else ever did.

Some "Protector" she was...

But undeterred by Blake's response, Yang's mood stayed high. "Alright, Team YRRN!" she gave a dramatic sweep of her arm towards the forest, "You've read the mission profile, you know our assignment—we are to _goof off _with the Grimm kids for the next couple of hours, and _we will do our damnedest_ to make this our most successful mission ever. Ruby!" she pointed to her sister, "You're with Weiss—you've got the coordinates of the frog pond on your map-" Weiss audibly _gasped _at that, "Ren and Nora, I want you with Emerald and Blake. I'm going with Jaune and Pyrrha."

That… that was a surprise.

Pyrrha knew not to feel happiness until she was _sure _it was a good thing. Mother had taught her well enough that any promise of a good thing could be so easily taken away, turned into a weapon against her. So instead she looked over to Blake, who met her eyes.

In an instant, they communicated all they needed—Pyrrha was quite the expert at wordless communication with her sisters, a necessary tactic should they be fighting together—and Blake seemed to think that she should take the opportunity. That her concerns from earlier had been discarded for now. And... a bit of an apology from Blake for her pushiness that morning. An apology Pyrrha was relieved to take, and met with her own apology for how dismissive she'd been of her sisters concerns. So she gave Yang a skeptical look, reminding herself that Blake kept an eye open for them, and she did it to keep them safe.

"What's got you so worried, P-Monster?" the blonde responding to her look with a confident smile.

"...I would prefer if you didn't call me that," she replied, icily.

"End of the week, you're getting a nickname. Rubes, No-No, and Rennington can all tell you."

"I liked 'Eleanora,'" Nora cut in, "Made me feel all… _princessy._"

"But anyways," Yang continued, "You, me, the Prince—I heard you're, like, a walking apocalypse, and I am _dying _to see that in action."

An alarmed look from Jaune told her that she wouldn't be _wholly _cutting loose, but the thought of showing off how strong she was… well, it definitely got her blood pumping. And yes, she knew to be wary of good things, but… Pyrrha was starting to get a little _excited _for this excursion.

* * *

Were they lost?

Weiss was fascinated by trees. There wasn't anything _like _them back in the Grimmlands, and because her head was stuck up all the time, she kept tripping over roots and rocks. But she was pretty sure she'd seen these trees before. Or maybe trees were like that? Ruby seemed confident that they were _almost _at the pond, but Weiss was starting to feel impatient. But she also didn't want to annoy Ruby. And she kept getting distracted by pretty things on the side of the path. Like these white flowers she just found! Ruby said they were called daisies, and then told Weiss that she could do something really cool with them, and Weiss was really excited to see it.

So they sat on a log together, Weiss idly kicking her feet in the air, as Ruby plucked some daisies and started… tying them together? Weiss didn't get it, but she watched politely (she was on her best behavior!) as Ruby turned them into a little loop, and then…

"All done!" Ruby cheered, "It's a flower crown, and you wear it on your head."

"Jaune has a crown," Weiss answered, confused, "but it's made of metal and has spikes instead of flowers."

"...Is it cool?" Ruby quietly asked.

"Jaune doesn't like it," Weiss admitted. He never was happy when the crown was on, and Weiss had thought that the crown had done something to him, like it sucked the happiness out of him. Weiss wanted to break the crown, to help her brother, but Blake explained that it wasn't like that. But when Weiss asked Blake _why _Jaune was so unhappy… she didn't really have an answer.

Not an answer she'd give Weiss.

But Weiss was jolted out of her mood as Ruby slipped the crown onto Weiss's head. In a moment of panic, Weiss froze as she waited to see if it sucked the happiness out of her, or did something magical. But then it didn't.

It just felt… nice.

Ruby had a big smile on her face, and Weiss couldn't help but smile, too.

Oh, Ruby had done something nice for her! Weiss had to do something nice back, too!

Pulling out her knife, Weiss made a small cut across her palm.

"WEISS, WHAT-" Ruby screamed.

Weiss whirled in a panic. She didn't mean to startle Ruby, she was just going to do some magic. "I'm… I'm okay?" she suggested hesitantly.

Ruby just gawked, the black blood _oozing _and _smoking _on her palm. Oh! That was it, all she had to do was _show _Ruby the magic, and she'd see it was okay!

Grabbing a fistful of dirt, Weiss crushed the dirt and blood together in her hand, mixing the two, feeling the dark magic _swirl _inside her. She always felt very peaceful whenever she used magic, and Jaune's rule against magic while they were on the trip had left her feeling very antsy. Especially because she felt guilty every time she got caught casting. But Ruby didn't know she wasn't allowed to, so it was okay.

She felt the Darkness inside her _flow _about in her body, stretching it from the tips of her toes and then pulling it _tight_ into her core, and then _poured _it into her hand. Weiss could summon Grimm a dozen different ways, a lot of them easier than this, but she wanted a _particular _Grimm, and as she _pressed _her dirt and blood smeared palm to the ground, she felt the black, pooling Grimmstuff spread before them.

This was the hard part-

"_Weiss…"_

_The Pretty Lady was staring at her, a light, the only light in the darkness._

_Weiss was scared, she had been scared ever since she'd been taken, and every day, it felt more and more like she'd never had a life before this. She couldn't remember her home, couldn't remember her mommy and daddy, she couldn't remember anything and she was so, so scared._

_And the Pretty Lady made everything feel worse._

_Something in her was wrong. Something inside her was broken. Because she saw the Pretty Lady, sparkling and shimmering in white, and she knew there was supposed to be something there. She knew her, she was saying her name like she knew who Weiss was, but why didn't Weiss know her? She was supposed to know her but she didn't know her!_

_A scream of terrible frustration welled up inside her. All the fear, all the nightmares, all the horrors swirling about her, this pit of black ink that she'd been thrown into and now was swallowing her up, was pouring into her as she screamed and screamed and SCREAMED-_

Weiss felt dizzy for a moment, then looked at the pool of darkness she'd created in front of them. As she raised her hand, up came an Ursa, but not just any Ursa, a…

No this was all wrong!

In her frustration, Weiss struck the stupid Ursa across the face, tearing its head right off as the Grimm broke back down into Grimmstuff.

"Stupid Ursa!" Weiss yelled.

"What- what was wrong with it?" Ruby asked.

"It was supposed to be _pink,_" Weiss sniffled. "Not a dumb regular Ursa. I can't do _anything_ right!"

"That's not true!" Ruby protested, "You _made _an Ursa, and that's super cool! Though, um… why were you making an Ursa?"

"Because I wanted it to give us a ride, so we could get to the frogs faster."

"Oh." Ruby looked down, suddenly blushing, "Um… promise you won't get mad, but..."

"I promise I won't get mad," Weiss dutifully replied.

"I don't know where we are," she admitted, embarrassed, "I've been lost for a while now, but I didn't wanna tell you, cause I thought you'd get mad. I'm sorry."

"Oh."

Did that mean… no frogs?

Weiss didn't wanna get upset, especially not after Ruby made her a super nice flower crown, but she was already mad about the Ursa… but she had promised not to get mad... No, she would be… she would be…

She would _not _be Nice Weiss.

Weiss did not _like _being Nice Weiss. She didn't like… being fake. But… no, she could be nice. She could be nice because _Ruby _was nice, and she wanted to be nice for _Ruby!_

"That's okay," she said, hoping it sounded sincere. "Maybe the frogs are right around here, and we just happened to find them. Like… behind us!" she yelled, flinging her hand towards whatever it was that was behind them. Trees and some water and stuff.

"Weiss..." Ruby gasped, "You… _that's the pond! _It was behind us the whole-"

_Frogs!_

Weiss dashed forward, eager to finally, _finally _see a frog, as she tore into the water.

"Weiss! No!" Ruby yelled, and Weiss whirled around to see her at the shore. "Frogs are shy, and they get scared if you make too much noise!"

She- she _scared _the frogs? Weiss didn't want that, didn't want that _at all!_

"Just… follow my lead, and we'll get some frogs!"

Too nervous at the possibility that she'd lost her chance, Weiss followed precisely behind Ruby, _terrified _that she might scare off the frogs.

And then she heard a _plop._

"Was that a frog?" she hissed in Ruby's ear, desperately struggling not to be loud.

But Ruby just turned to her with a smile. "Yep."

Weiss wasn't much for self-control, but she _knew _that she would _not _scare the frogs! So she held perfectly still, unwilling to even _breathe _in case that would scare them. Well, she wasn't very good at holding her breath, but she was _very careful _not to move!

"Okay, so..." Ruby gave her patient instructions, "What you have to do is sit and _watch _until you spot a frog… they blend in with the background, but once you start watching for movement, you'll start noticing them. Then, what you've gotta do is creep up behind it, and then… _pow! _You grab it!"

Weiss nodded. She thought she could do that. No! She could _definitely _do that!

She and Ruby stood still carefully scanning the pond, feeling her clothes dry out in the sun. This was actually really nice. But she had to focus. She had to look for the _frogs._

But then Ruby quietly tapped her shoulder. "Look, right there," she pointed and whispered.

Weiss followed where Ruby was pointing. She didn't see anything, just mud and rocks, but if she…

There. There it was.

Frog.

Frog!

_FROG!_

Weiss struggled to maintain her composure. _Don't make noise. Don't scare Mr. Frog. Do what Ruby says to do and you can meet a frog!_

She was not stealthy, not like Blake or Emerald, but Weiss used every magic trick she knew to muffle their footsteps as she followed behind Ruby, creeping up on the frog. They were so cute, even more so in person, and Weiss just _knew _she was only inches away from finally getting to hold a frog.

With a silent signal, Ruby stopped her, and gestured that she should drop down low. Weiss complied, and, slowly, they crept up where he was sunning himself in the mud.

Her voice barely above a whisper, Weiss heard Ruby say, "_Now!"_

Weiss darted forward, with speed that would startle even her sisters as she _lunged _for the frog. But he was alert, and quick, and sprung away suddenly. Undeterred, Weiss flung herself at where the frog was headed, unwilling to lose her chance! But the frog was quicker than her, and her fingers only _brushed _the frog's bumpy skin as she toppled, face first into the mud with a _SPLAT!_

Whirling, hoping for a third chance, she…

There were _rose petals _hanging in the air, and Ruby… kneeling in the mud, her hands gently clasped. Weiss's breath caught in her throat as Ruby looked over with a grin.

"Do you wanna hold him?"

Her jaw dropped. Her joy _soared. _"Yes!" she squeaked, darting forward as Ruby gently placed a frog in her hands.

He was wet and squirmy, with slimy skin. Weiss looked at his bulging eyes and wrinkly, blobby shape.

In short, he was even _cuter _than he looked in the books!

"Hello Mr. Frog," she said, gently, "I'm Weiss."

And then… it's mouth _bulged _as it went… _ribbit!_

Just like in her books!

Oh, oh, oh! She looked over to Ruby with the _biggest _grin. Vale was full of the nicest, best, most _wonderful _people and Weiss was _so _glad they'd come to Vale! She couldn't wait to tell Jaune all about her day!

But Ruby gave her a gentle tug on her sleeve. "My mom always says that you don't know what a frog's gotta do with his day, so it's best not to take up too much of his time. Just say hi, then let him hop off about his day."

Releasing the frog, she watched as it hopped away, back into the pond, where it swam off. "Bye Mr. Frog!" she waved, then turned to Ruby, an ecstatic smile on her face. "How did you learn so much about frog catching!"

Ruby blushed. "I really wanted to have a pet frog as a kid, but they were always getting out of their shoebox and getting me in trouble."

Weiss nodded at that. She'd gotten in trouble for frogs before, too. She placed a comforting hand on Ruby's shoulder, knowing how tough it could be.

The rest of the day was just like that. Finding frogs, catching frogs, petting them, comparing who could catch the bigger one, and letting them go. She got to hear them croak and hop and splash and it was… well, what else could she call it?

Best day ever.

* * *

Operation Matchmaker was _go._

Weiss and Ruby had shot off within the first second of hearing the word "frog," and Nora, bless her heart, had taken Blake and Emerald off on a wild goose chase (literally—Yang had just asked her to run interference and Nora had insisted they would take the time to track down a wild goose), leaving Yang with a perfect opportunity to be Pyrrha's wing-woman.

But this was more than just playing cupid. Yang knew that the success of this whole diplomatic endeavor was going to rely on two people more than anything: Jaune, as Prince of the Grimm, and Pyrrha, who seemed to be his closest confidant. There were a lot of unknowns with this plan, particularly where the big Queen S was involved, but _no matter what, _Yang knew that, if she could get these two to open up, experience a bit of normalcy.

She didn't like to think about it, but this was world history shit. Success or failure on getting these two to open up, quite literally, could decide a global war. _Millions _of lives were in the balance, and, frankly, if she could get the claimed to open up, she would have a direct impact on the entirety of the Grimm. It would… be the single most significant task she would _ever _face.

It was a _lot_ easier to think of it as matchmaking two socially-awkward dorks.

So she focused on that instead.

"Alright!" she proclaimed, boldly, suddenly stopping and halting the two behind her (and, as planned, Jaune couldn't stop as fast and bumped right into Pyrrha!), "We've got an afternoon to ourselves to do _absolutely whatever. _And, as I understand it," she looked to Jaune, "last time, you took to a lack of adult supervision with an admirable gusto. But now it's Pyrrha's turn, so—what're we doing?"

Pyrrha, of course, just gaped at her. She wasn't a "take charge" type so much, more of a "dutifully does what she's told," but Yang had learned that didn't mean she didn't have _wants. _And a lot more wants than just Princey!

"Come on!" she teased, "We've got no rules and no supervision..." she let it dangle for a moment, seeing the longing in her face, the indecision, the fear of _articulating that she even had wants, _and it was a perfect set up for Yang's next words. "Okay, how about, you, me, the Prince, we just go Grimm hunting. Like I said, I wanna see you go _all out, _P-rah."

"Actually, Yang," the Prince cut in, "Pyrrha doesn't-"

"Nope!" she cut him off, "We're doing what _Pyrrha _says, so unless she wants to say whatever you were about to tell me, you just gotta listen to her!"

Yang didn't miss how _that _got a reaction out of Pyrrha.

Pyrrha bowed her head for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Okay… how about…" and then she looked up, a faint, but unmistakable, grin on her face, "Jaune, you lost in a fight with a Huntress-in-training, so I _think _you need a refresher on combat. There's some Ursa off… a bit, that way," she gestured to the Northwest, "so let's get going!"

Jaune, surprised, but apparently as happy as Yang to see Pyrrha taking charge, saluted. "Aye-aye, captain!"

Pyrrha was subtle, maybe not as much as her sisters, but she was definitely someone more used to keeping their emotions stoically tight inside them. But Yang _did not miss _the way she smiled once she knew Jaune wasn't looking.

* * *

"I don't _care _what you've heard in class, there's no such thing as a _riding Ursa!" _Blake seethed.

"There are _too _riding Ursas!" shot back Nora Valkyrie, who Blake had upgraded from "annoyance" to "problem" with her inability to just _listen _to anything sensible! "Ren's ridden one, he can prove it! Hey, Ren!"

They both swiveled to look where Ren was talking to Emerald, both evidently oblivious to the conversation going on.

"Well… Berenskia's arrangement for the violin isn't my _personal _cup of tea, but I wouldn't have an issue with anyone who called it their favorite. But I always found the more peaceful, more contemplative work that Maziorsky was producing at the same time to be the definitive-"

"HEY REN!" Nora _rudely _interrupted her partner.

But Ren did not seem annoyed. He simply shifted gears as fluidly as if this was a regular occurrence. "Yes, Nora?" he asked.

"We rode an Ursa during initiation, didn't we!"

"No. You are thinking of yourself and Ruby. The Ursa gave out when you brought it into the clearing." He then returned to talking with Emerald about music. Why was _Blake _not having the cultured discussion, but instead dealing with this _infuriating _girl's smug smile!

"That's not a _riding _Ursa!" Blake cried, "That is an _Ursa _that you _rode. _That's all there is to it!"

"I am not seeing the difference here," Nora replied, her eyes narrowing, "You bet 25 lien on it, so I expect-"

"We never bet anything on this!"

Nora scratched her head. "You sure? I thought you made the wager cuz you wanted some insight on Yang, since you're dating her and-"

"I am _not _dating _YANG!_" Blake spat. "For the last time, your _leader's _perverse _interest _in me is just a _sick fantasy _and not to be entertained!"

"Wait, so is she dating _Pyrrha, _then? Cause that doesn't seem-"

Blake stormed off. This trip had been _miserable. _What, "go play in the woods for a few hours," that was how Beacon organized their missions? That would explain more than a few things about this _ridiculous _place.

The most frustrating thing about this was that Yang and Pyrrha and Jaune were off away from them. And Blake knew what it meant. She had… misjudged Yang's interest, and, it seems, possibly misjudged her _own _desires when it came to Jaune, but Yang's actual intent was just as bad as what she feared. A new inner circle was forming. And Blake wasn't part of it.

She had miscalculated. Overconfidence, her failure to anticipate just how _badly_ Pyrrha longed for Jaune, had cost her _dearly. _She had nearly been _rebuked _by her brother after their meeting with Goodwitch and Rose and now Blake had to find some way, some _strategy _to move _back _to her rightful place. She had played it cool, knowing not to contest what Pyrrha so clearly wanted when Yang suggested the three of them group up. She knew it had won her points with Pyrrha by giving it her approval. But Blake could also feel the claw of desperation digging into her. She felt antsy, panicked, thinking of how much had already _slipped_ away from her and how little time she had. But desperation would cause failure, hastiness led to disaster, and she needed to _think._

Not that _Nora _here was making things easier.

Blake wanted to _scream. _Wanted to tear into the woods and hack trees apart, wanted to show her true form, to feel _blood _between her claws, to drink _deep _of the essence of life, but she knew, she _knew _that she was the composed one. The one _always _in control.

She took a deep breath. Blake wasn't strong because she had razor sharp claws and teeth, because she could turn into a shadow, because she knew secret magicks, but because she was _smart. _Rather than relying on the gifts of the Darkness to find her role, she'd crafted one for herself, as Jaune's advisor. To get what she _wanted._ But she'd learned, she had very quickly learned, that survival in the Grimmlands came from not letting a single thing escape her notice. She was the Hawk, her brother's spy, and she kept a _close eye _on everything she could. Yang was worming her way into Jaune's heart, taking advantage of Pyrrha, encouraging her to make her move so that _she _could hop along. But Blake had the advantage there. She _knew _Jaune, knew him better than that loud, uncouth, blonde _barbarian _did…

Patience. Blake just had to be _patient,_ and she'd get her chance. Set up her opportunity. Take a deep breath. Focus on what mattered. Don't lose your temper. Breathe. The time will come.

Her time would come.

Blake had spent a lifetime waiting to make her move.

She could wait a little while longer.

**Could just end the story right here now that Weiss has found her froggos and daisy crown and we can all agree it was a happy ending. **

**Checking my Discord record with Renarde, and I've been waiting to post this chapter since all the way back in _March. _Glad to finally get here! ****And speaking of, thanks, as always, to Renarde and Danish for feedback and notes! And reference pictures of frogs!**

**But there's a lot more coming down the pipe. Blake's position in her family has been unsettled and she's been struggling to regain control—and as you can see, she's _not _someone who handles losing control well. Plus, next chapter, Jaune gets another chance to win a fight and, yes, _another _conspiracy reveals itself. Though it's more sad and pathetic than lethal, like the Belladonna-Schnee faction, but you'll get to see it for yourself soon enough!  
**


	15. The Wisdom That Comes From Experience

Jaune juked left, only to find a fist waiting for him. He dodged, only there was the other. Taking the blow, he tried to roll with it, stepping backwards to absorb the momentum, he then snapped back into a wild punch…

Except Yang wasn't there anymore.

But where she _was, _or at least, where her _elbow _was, was crashing right into his sternum, sending Jaune staggering back, winded by the blow.

"Alright, Princey," she said, waving her finger and _tsking _at him as he struggled to catch his breath, "What was your mistake here?"

Hands on his knees, he looked up at his opponent. "Punching where you were instead of where you are?" he wheezed.

Yang stroked her chin, sagely, "Yes, it is often said that one cannot win a fight without actually hitting their opponent. But before then, what was going on, _why _weren't you hitting me?"

"I don't know," Jaune said, annoyance creeping into his voice, "I was trying to-"

She cut him off. "Exactly. You were _trying."_

Jaune stared at her blankly.

"And that's supposed to help me… how? Sure felt like you were _trying, _too."

But far from being annoyed, Yang just smiled and shook her head.

"I was being purely reactionary, letting _you _take the lead, but because I knew what you were _trying _to achieve, I've always been able to know exactly how to react to you. And so I can guide you towards what I _want _you to do, and even though I'm not _trying _to control the fight… I'm leading you exactly where I want you to be."

"So, what?" Jaune asked, more than a little annoyance in his voice now, "Should I just… stop trying to control the fight and then… control the fight? That doesn't make any _sense._"

"Took me a long time to get it, too," Yang nodded sagely, "And believe me, my dad was not as merciful to me as I've been to you, vis a vis puns and dad jokes. It was a dark time in the Xiao Long household, a truly dark time."

"But what am I supposed to _do?_" Jaune cried, "How am I supposed to fight without _trying?"_

"The water goes around the rocks."

Jaune blinked at her, totally confused. "I'm… sorry?"

"It was a saying my dad was fond of. He'd take me to the river near our house to fetch water. And he'd ask me… how _heavy _the bucketful of water was, and to imagine how many bucketfuls are in the river, moving forward, in even a _second. _To imagine how _heavy _the river must be and how _powerful _its current is, even as lazy as it was."

Not exactly getting her point, but knowing she'd probably get to it eventually, Jaune just nodded.

"The water seems placid and gentle, because instead of smashing down everything in its path, it just focuses on going forward, taking the path of least resistance. It's so much mightier than I am, but I don't notice it, because I'm measuring might in terms of bashing down the first impediment to success… rather than thinking in terms of the river's entire path. The water goes, unstoppably, from uphill to downhill, and any attempt to actually stop it learns that a placid river _is _capable of bashing down a dam. But the rocks? It just goes around."

"So be like the river?" Jaune asked, "Try to win the entire fight instead of focusing on landing the next hit?"

"Be like the river, yeah, but also," she gave him a grin, "be like the _rocks. _Don't try to stop the river, but channel it, direct it. Know that a dam can turn that river's strength into _power, _so long as you let it through where _you _want to let it through. Does that make sense?"

"Clear as mud," Jaune grumbled.

But Yang wasn't annoyed. "It takes a while. But keep at it. Sometimes, you've just got to change your way of thinking and then… everything looks so obvious that you're not sure how you didn't grasp it in the first place."

He rolled his eyes, but her sympathetic tone did do something to mollify his annoyance. And… moreso, Jaune was moved by the way she took on a look of misty-eyed remembrance. This was something Yang was proud of, but moreso, it was something meaningful to her. Sparring with her dad, learning philosophy and pugilism… Mother had taught Jaune, but her teaching wasn't… wasn't like that. She _instructed, _clear orders about what a Prince must be that Jaune _hated. _Pyrrha and Blake and Emerald learned cool stuff from Tyrian, Hazel, Arthur, and Cinder, while he learned how to sit up straight and be pompous.

"You're thinking about something," she said, her eyes narrowing, as though she could just peer through his skull, "so out with it! I won't accept anything other than the truth and you are not _prepared _for how annoying I can be!" Then she smugly added, "Ren can tell you all about it."

Jaune had to laugh. He had been prepared to shut her out, but it was hard to stand against Yang's force of personality. "The water goes around the rocks," indeed.

Though, his thoughts had been much darker than that. "I just… I was thinking..." he swallowed, "It must've been nice, you know, having a dad."

Now it was her expression's turn to darken. "Well… I mean," she said, eyes darting away, "my parental situation wasn't exactly what you might call traditional..."

"But I mean, like, you have a..." he searched for a word. He failed. "You have a _real _family," he mumbled.

"You have a-"

"I know! I..." Jaune looked away, "I _hate_ that I'm thinking this, but you've never had to wonder like I did, between the Arcs and my sisters, between Mother and..." he trailed off.

Yang was quiet for a moment. Then she ducked around to look him straight in the eyes. "Well, about that… you know that girl that's been watching us for the past fifteen minutes?"

"The- the what?" Jaune's eyes quickly darted around.

"No, no, don't let her know that she's been spotted. Honestly, it's kind of adorable. But, yeah, that's my sister Ruby up in the stands," Jaune glanced, out of the corner of his eye, and saw the red-hooded member of Team YRRN, peeking from behind a corner. The one who used a _giant scythe, _reminding Jaune not to trust appearances. But she also had Silver Eyes which… were very scary already. "Anyways, she's my little sis, and she means the _world _to me. Believe me—you know how protective you are of your sisters? That's how I feel about Ruby."

Jaune nodded, appreciating a piece of common ground with Yang.

"Anyways, what if I told you we're _not _sisters?"

His eyes boggled at that, and then… kind of went back down. "I guess… I guess I'd see it. You two sure don't _look _like sisters," he shrugged. Of course, visible similarities hadn't been a meaningful part of how Jaune understood the word _sister, _but he knew he was an outlier.

"Yyyyyyep," she said, "Been hearing it all my life. Oh _sure,_" she cut off his objection, "nobody says it to my _face, _but I look like my biological mom and my dad, and even though we're supposed to be half-sisters… Ruby looks like her mom and my Uncle Qrow. A _lot _of people put two and two together, and that means we're biological _cousins. _And you know what that means?"

"I don't… know?" Jaune replied.

"Not a gods-damned thing," Yang said with a grin. "Ruby is _my sister, _no matter what might have happened in the past. She's my sister where it counts, and that's _not _blood."

"Does… does Ruby know?" he asked, nervous to have learned this piece of family gossip.

"I'd hope not," Yang answered, "'Specially cause it's not true."

Jaune's eyes went wide. "Then- then why did you _tell me _like it was!" he cried, exasperated.

She just gave him that same, cocky grin. "I mean, I don't know for _sure, _it's not like we've done a DNA test, but my Uncle Qrow's _gay. _He and Summer _probably _didn't hook up, so I'd rather people weren't spreading that story."

"Then why did you tell me?" Jaune asked in further exasperation.

But Yang's grin just got wider. "Well, first of all, it was funny to see you react. Second, there was a time I didn't _know _that. And in those times, when I heard people say that Ruby's not my sister… that's when I realized, it doesn't _matter _if we have the same dad or not. Ruby's my sister, no matter what. And I think you should..."

Her voice trailed off.

"I should..." he asked, hoping to jog her memory.

"Actually, Jaune..." and for the first time since he'd met her, Jaune was seeing Yang _blush, _"I just realized, I might have given one of your sisters the exact _opposite _advice I was about to give _you, _and now I've realize I should probably… should probably _think _a little before advising you guys on things." Then she shot him a very severe look. "Don't you _dare _tell Ren I said that, or so help me-"

"Okay, okay," Jaune laughed, holding up his hands in mock-surrender. Though he was starting to wonder what the exact opposite of the advice he'd just received could be. That they… weren't really siblings? How would that be useful advice, and which of his sisters would be looking into _that?_

"Actually…" Yang said, something contemplative entering her voice, "tell me, whaddaya think of Ren?"

"He seems..." Jaune took a moment to think about what his _honest _answer would be. Not an empty politeness, but rather, to think why Yang was asking this question. He was starting to pick up that, for all her bluntness and straightforward honesty, Yang was a cunning strategist. But there wasn't an _answer_ she was looking for him to say, she wanted him… to figure something out here. "Ren… seems like a good man. The kind of person who's reliable and responsible, but he knows when to let things go. He might… not approve of everything we did at the party, but he didn't get in the way of it, because he knew it was for a good cause."

"Smart man," Yang chuckled, "Very observant. And you haven't had a one on one with Nora, but I figure you've gotten the gist of who _she_ is?"

"Loud?"

"_Bingo. _But moreso, Ren and Nora, the two of them, they grew up together. It was some kind of weird Mistralian extended family thing? Nora was an orphan and Ren's family took her in—not like, adopted her, but the two of them have been together since… hell, probably not that long after the Separation. But what they've got… there's not a lot of easy words for it. Took me a while to broach the subject, like, is Nora his _sister _or are they _childhood friends _or are they _dating, _or what's exactly going on there, but Ren..." she smiled, obviously charmed by this memory from early in her relationship with her partner, "Ren told me that what he and Nora have is what they have, together. What _they're _comfortable with. And they're not going to play along with some rules about what they're _supposed_ to be."

_Supposed to be._ Those words had a resonance with Jaune—how many times had Mother lectured him on how a Prince was _supposed _to behave or whether his interests were those he was _supposed _to be pursuing. But hearing the word in Yang's voice, he was thinking of what she had to teach him, about going around the rocks.

He'd push back, but sometimes, it felt like… like his acts of willful disobedience and resistance, the times he was thrown in The Hole, like he wasn't seeing the whole game. Mother always gave, but… was that because she wanted him to win? A Royal wasn't _supposed _to concede defeat like that, after all. Like with Yang, was there something he was _supposed _to be becoming, and his resistance was only leading him exactly where Mother wanted him to go.

Jaune didn't like where this train of thought led. So he switched his focus back to Yang.

"You're good with words."

Yang flashed him her dazzling grin. "Ren would _strongly _disagree, but I am glad to hear that it is official policy of the Grimmlands that he is wrong."

Jaune suppressed a laugh, but once again… he felt his mood darken. "I wish… I was as good at just coming out and _saying _things as you are. I'm here to try to achieve peace, but _you've_ done more of the work for that than _I _have. I'm trying to get people to think that we're not a threat, that we're just like _you, _but I don't- I don't know _how!"_

Suddenly, he felt Yang's hand on his shoulder, a reassuring smile on her face… and a glint in her eye that made Jaune a little _worried._

"I got an idea for you," Yang drawled, "You wanna let people know you're not a threat? How about you _tell them._ Just get on TV and-"

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah! You're the Prince of the Grimm, your _farts _are newsworthy as all _hell, _just get out there and tell everyone, 'Hey, I'm actually a nice guy and I really do want peace,' and you'll start winning over people."

"Do you think..." he awkwardly found his words, "do you think I won't… screw it up?"

But Yang just seemed baffled by the question.

"Jaune, this is an excellent example of what I've been trying to tell you! You fail because you're _trying not to fail, _and you're so preoccupied with that, you're setting yourself up for your own doom! But with this… just go out there and _be yourself. _Don't try to control the story, just let the people see the Jaune I've been hanging out with these past weeks—a guy who's faced a hell of a lot and still puts himself out there to try to bring peace where everyone else thinks it's impossible."

Jaune was about to object, but… well, he really did want to _achieve _something. And Yang… Yang hadn't steered him wrong yet. And Jaune was willing to take a risk on her. To _prove _to Mother that his strategy would work, and once she'd seen that the people of Remnant were willing to accept peace, he could convince her that it shouldn't be used for conquest, but agreement. He knew that Mother had another side to her. The side that let him sit on her lap when he was a child, those looks, that he had permanently _etched _into his memory, of sad longing when she thought nobody could see her. She cared for them, deep down, she really cared for them. In spite of everything, she _had _to care for them. And Jaune knew that he could prove to her that she was capable of expressing that love he _knew _was deep inside her, a love for them, and perhaps… for the whole world.

It _had _to be there, somewhere. Jaune just had to find it.

* * *

He was improving. Blake could clearly see that, and Jaune's Grimm strength was a potent enough force that, even with this limited training, he was becoming something… that could reasonably defeat a Huntsman. Not quite up to _their _level, but something respectable.

Blake idly wondered if she should encourage Pyrrha to start training Jaune again. Though Mother had done quite a _number _on her the last time she tried that... it'd be a risk to try to push her on this, but Blake could tell that Yang was winning points with Pyrrha by pushing her towards Jaune… perhaps Blake could try beating her at that very game?

Yes, that sounded like a plan. Blake could feel things _slipping _and she knew that now was the time to start making a move. And Pyrrha was her strongest asset, not just in terms of her strength, but because Blake knew that Pyrrha might be amicable to…

Shaking her head, Blake reminded herself of what she did and did not want. This was about their safety, about their _brother's _safety, and Blake had to pay attention to the threat right in front of her. The one right now trying to advise Jaune on things… Blake _hated _that she liked the plan she was hearing, not least of all because a TV appearance would mean Jaune would need advice. Coaching. Talking points. And Blake would be useful. Necessary. _Needed. _But would that put her in a quiet alliance with Yang? A conundrum.

She also noticed the other girl, Ruby, trying to discreetly watch the fight from a distance. It didn't take Blake's senses to note that his eyes were locked on Jaune, and even if Blake had... misjudged things with Yang, she wasn't making the same mistake here. Was this whole damn family going to be a curse for Blake to deal with?

"You know..."

Blake whirled. How had…

It was Ren. She could _see _it was Ren, hear him, but there was something… hideously and monstrously _off _about him. And that's when she realized what was wrong _and _how he snuck up on her.

Every human radiated with their emotional presence. Doubly so for Huntsmen, whose aura meant they wore their souls _brightly _outside of their own bodies. Often, it was faint, the white noise of boredom or idle thoughts, sometimes it spiked with joy (Nora, for instance, was like a one-woman marching band), sometimes sorrow, fury, panic, and despair flashed across their aura, drawing her in. But no matter what, as long as a human _lived, _they had a presence.

But Ren… She sensed _nothing _from Ren.

And it was the most unsettling thing Blake had ever seen before in her life.

"Is… something the matter?"

"You..." she wanted to _vomit, _it was something so unnatural, so _monstrous _that Blake _reeled _to see it, "Your Semblance, it…"

"Ah, yes," and all of a sudden, Ren was restored to human presence. Muted, as Ren usually was, but _human. _"I figured you'd run if you knew I was approaching you. My Semblance lets me mask my emotions, but I guess… I never thought about how it looks from the other side."

"It's _disgusting," _Blake sneered, hoping to get some barbs in and restore her control of the situation.

All he did, though, was nod a little at it, not taking the bait. "I apologize, I hadn't realized. But… I was wondering if it would help if I asked Yang to cool it with the flirtation. She doesn't always… realize when she's crossed a line."

_Help? _He wanted- he thought she needed _help? _Blake looked at him with pure disdain. "What are you _talking _about?"

But Ren just chuckled. "You're going to hate this, but… you're a lot more like Yang than you think, and I have a _lot _of experience dealing with hard-headed pride thanks to her."

Blake glowered at the boy, mentally calculating how much she could get away with here. She couldn't _kill _him, even if she could ensure that her involvement was never revealed. Couldn't terrify him into submission like she had with the idiot the night of the party. Her best bet was to just _show _him what hard-headed pride looked like and just remain surly and noncooperative until he moved on.

"You're here for something," she said, her voice very nearly a hiss, "so you might as well just tell me what you want so we can both move on."

He looked a little afraid, like he was realizing that he had stepped where he ought not tread. _Much _better than his partner in that regard… except, much like _Yang, _he seemed to be _sad _for her. And Blake _did not _like that.

"Yang can be… a lot. And she doesn't exactly know boundaries as well as she should, and… I can tell she's starting to get on your nerves. She gets on my nerves _a lot. _And sometimes she needs to be _told _that she needs to cool it. And I'd be happy to do that."

Blake nodded. Anger made rationality difficult, and she reminded herself that she needed to calm down. Yang had knocked her off her rhythm, and so she was getting sloppy. Making mistakes she _shouldn't. _Almost missing that this was a perfect opportunity.

Softening her features, she let her ears flatten against her head in shame. "I… thank you," she said, apologetically, "I'm tasked with making sure my brother is safe, and… this has been a task. It's a lot more exhausting that I expected," she admitted.

"I can imagine," Ren said.

_Oh, can you? _Blake thought, _Have you ever had the entire world against you and the ones you love?_

Ren kept speaking, oblivious of Blake's thoughts. "My father's a Magistrate in my hometown in Mistral. It's… not quite like what you grew up with, but… I remember when my father had to try the leader of a bandit tribe. My mom, Nora, and I… we all had to be taken into a secure location, and we didn't know if we were going to get attacked, or if my dad was going to be attacked, and everywhere I looked… it was really scary. I actually discovered my Semblance while in hiding, trying to help keep Nora calm."

Blake… this time, her ears really did flatten against her head in shame. No, he didn't know what it was like to be a Daughter of Salem, but Blake knew what it was to be the one looking out for their siblings. The one with an eye open for danger even as they told them everything was going to be alright. "I… I'm sorry," she apologized, "I know what it's like to have to keep up a strong front for someone you care for..."

"And trust me," he said, softly, "even if you might not feel appreciated for it… you mean the world to your siblings. I can tell."

"Thanks..." Blake mumbled, then she looked up, meeting his magenta eyes. "You… mentioned to Emerald that you're a fan of Maziorsky? What did you think of his Mantle performance of the Klimovitch Sonata?"

His eyes lit up. Blake could tell he was a fan of the, in her opinion, underappreciated performance, and as he quickly leapt into an impassioned defense, Blake felt… she wasn't sure how she felt. She hadn't been sure about _anything _since the party.

But she just had to hold on. To take a breather. To _focus._

She'd been knocked off her rhythm, but she could get it back. Could take control of the situation. Could keep her siblings safe. Even if things were _slipping… _she was still in control.

* * *

No man can contend against the _Will_ of a Goddess.

He'd seen it with his own eyes. Defiance against the all-powerful brought madness, ruin, and death. To those he loved more than anything. But Klein… Klein had learned the Truth of it all.

It mattered not if a God was cruel. It was a God. Its cruelty was its divine and sovereign _right,_ and for a mortal to resist it was not just folly—it was _blasphemy._

Every day Klein felt the pain in his breast, the memory of his dear little Weiss taken away, Willow's _scream _still echoing in his skull, her slow slide into despair and the grave… Jacques' slower, but no less total, slide into vengeful madness… it was a reminder, a permanent reminder, etched deep within his soul, that Queen Salem was divine power incarnate upon the world, and all he could do was supplicate and _pray _for her mercy upon them.

That was why he was here now. In Vale, where last night he'd seen the lights of Beacon glittering in the darkness, the lights where Weiss was, now raised up as a divine being, hideous and terrible and awe-inspiring. He was officially here because he had been granted a vacation—Jacques had needed privacy, and Klein knew what it meant—but unofficially, he was here on a mission of cosmic significance. To beg his Goddess's servant to intercede for a hopeless world, to spare them all their Mistress's holy wrath.

A servant, one of his fraternity, led him through the elegant mansion—and even though Klein lived in the mansion of the richest man in the world, he had to admit he was impressed by the Old Money opulence that surrounded him—to the study, where a large man with a shock of graying red hair sat in a plush chair. The servant bowed and left them to speak in private.

"Brother Sieben," the burly man said, crossing his arms in the sign of their Order.

"Brother Winchester," he replied, giving "Has our Lady arrived yet?"

As a butler, Klein was well practiced with hiding the _contempt _he felt from his voice. Jay Winchester was False. A man who recited the words but meant none of the meaning. He had a _fear _of Queen Salem, but unlike the Holy Dread that stalked Klein's dreams and tormented his days, Winchester was a cowardly opportunist. He worshiped Salem because he knew that there was no force on Remnant that could defeat Salem, and he hoped that his service and disgraceful scraping would preserve his privileges in Salem's new world.

"She has," he nodded, "Her and a companion are waiting for us."

Klein's eyes went wide. "Was it- was it one of the Chosen?" he asked, his stomach turning as he imaged seeing Weiss, his dear, poor Weiss, again, like _this._

"No, no," Wichester quickly shook his head, "An assistant. Roman Torchwick. They're waiting in the Chamber."

Getting up from his chair, Winchester reached for a light fixture and pulled on it, allowing a bookcase to slowly rotate and reveal the hidden passage.

"How classic," Klein dryly observed.

"I'm sure in _Atlas _you do things with a more… modern touch, but in Vale, well, we _value _our history."

Leading him down into a dark, stone-walled passage, Klein certainly _felt _like he was in history. Did Winchester have it built to seem like it was built over a hundred years ago, or was this just a secret room that every Winchester one day showed to his heir?

Though that reminded Klein of something…

"I heard you're not putting your son's name up for initiation," he said as he followed him down the tunnel.

The already cold underground air seemed to chill as Klein saw Winchester's shoulders _tense _at the subject. "He is… headstrong. Not suited for the more delicate matters of our Order. But he will understand, soon enough, when we can be _open _in our worship. And he will play his role in our Queen's new world."

"Hmpf," was all that Klein grunted in reply.

Winchester kept talking. "The Winchester family has always had a role in guiding the leadership of Vale. And I don't intend to see that change. Not in my lifetime. Not ever."

He stopped as they reached a door. Heavy and medieval looking, just like the tunnel. Winchester produced a large iron key and inserted it into the lock. With an effort, he turned it, and Klein could hear the exertion of the task. But when he opened the door to the Chamber, the spot where members of the Valean Order gathered for their services, he saw someone he'd never seen before.

Lady Cinder Fall, majordomo to the Goddess herself.

Bowing reverently, they waited before she beckoned them in. She was the highest ranking human in their Order, despite her young age, and Klein knew that meant he had to be wary. He had heard the rumors. That she had been raised from birth to be an assassin. That she had been exposed to the foundational powers of Darkness itself and been _changed _by it. That she was consort to the Prince and Heir, and even that she might be carrying His Majesty's child.

Whatever was true or not, he didn't know, but Klein knew she was dangerous. The knowledge that she attended to the Queen directly was frightening enough, but that look in her eyes, the alert, attentive look that made Klein feel that she was looking at him like a butcher, estimating how much every part of him would be worth as she sliced him apart, that was something he feared.

She took up so much of his attention he hardly noticed the cat burglar behind her, slinking in the darkness. His white coat wasn't particularly good for blending in (odd choice for a thief, though from what Klein knew, Roman Torchwick didn't do crimes unless he _wanted _to be spotted) but he seemed to shrink behind the young Lady Fall.

"We don't have much time," she commandingly began, "So I take it you have some familiarity with the matter at hand?"

"If Brother Sieben hasn't heard," Winchester turned to him, "the Prince will be giving an interview on VNN. Through my stake, I've been able to _strongly suggest _to her producer that we do not want a contentious interview. I expect that His Highness will find this interview will be a great success as part of his outreach in preparing the Kingdoms for Her Majesty's glorious rule."

But Lady Fall didn't seem to put much stock in his obsequious praise, instead pausing for a moment, weighing certain variables. "And Lisa Lavender, your interviewer… what can His Majesty expect from her? Is she… the more dogged sort?"

"She can be instructed to-"

But she cut him off. "Perhaps we would be better served if she _wasn't _kept on a leash..."

Realizing now that a wrong answer could prove dangerous, Winchester seemed to shrink before Klein's eyes. "I… should I be using my influence to encourage support for His Highness or should I work to aggravate the rabble against him?"

"Why not both?" she said with a smile, "Give Ozpin and the Council something to keep their hands full, push Atlas to overplay their hands, and..." she drew out the word a moment, looking between them, "You do not _know _His Majesty. Not truly. He'll surprise you."

Klein hadn't been there the first time the Heir graced Remnant, but he knew that Winchester had been. A sore subject: Winchester's attempt at a "gift" to the young Prince had nearly ended in his execution.

A _deserved _punishment, in Klein's mind. To offer his own _wife _as a consort… it disgusted Klein with his depravity and greed.

"But whether His Majesty is welcomed as a liberator or feared as a conqueror… it does not _truly _matter, not to our Queen. Chaos, though, will weaken our enemies, and… I've always found that such moments help us discern who are _truly _worthy."

Winchester readily agreed, obviously seeing _himself _as the worthy party.

The idiot. _None _were worthy. The universe did not _reward_ anyone, there was no repayment for their services. All that existed was power and submission to it. Klein had no illusions that the reward for his service might just be a dagger in his guts, but such would be the same reward for his resistance. At least this way, he might give his wretched life some meager sense of purpose before the inevitable.

Lady Fall now turned to him. "And as I understand it, Brother Sieben, you have something to add?"

Klein nodded. "Jacques and Miss Schnee remain in secret collaboration, and they've been joined by the Belladonnas. They are working with a Grimm researcher by the name of Merlot, though I suspect he's delivering more false hope than anything meaningful. However..." now was his moment of service, the height of betrayal and loyalty, the utter meaninglessness of it all, "They have decided to attempt an assassination against His Majesty, and I believe they will be using Miss Schnee's Atlas connections to find the assassin for it."

"A Specialist?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"I don't believe so. Someone off-the-books, though my access to Miss Schnee is much less secure, making it harder to give a definite answer."

She nodded. "I have a suspicion I know who they'll contact." Then she chuckled, darkly, a sound that reminded Klein that they were beyond all morality, 'How ironic to make this a _family _affair with Ozpin's little bird… but this should be easy enough to manage." She looked to him, a cruel smile on her face. "You have served us well, Klein Sieben, and I _will _be sure to inform the Queen of your service. But I would advise you to withdraw from future intelligence attempts, not to risk being caught. Roman and I will work to _ensure _the safety of our Prince."

"My- my Lady," Klein said, respectfully, as he bowed. He knew not to say anything more than what he was tasked to say, and if he was ordered to withdraw from surveilling Jacques… he would, of course, obey, even if he had reservations.

With that, Lady Fall signaled that they were finished, that there was nothing left to be said. Winchester, of course, attempted to get one last opportunity to grovel in, but Torchwick blocked him, then dutifully followed behind Lady Fall as they left, leaving the two men, traitors of different colors but the same cause, behind.

Leaving two men behind in a cold, stone chamber, deep underground, far from the prying eyes of the world. Far from the warmth of humanity.

"So..." Winchester asked, "How much longer do you think it'll be?"

"Until what?"

But Winchester just laughed. "Until the end of the world, of course!"

Klein turned away, leaving the question unanswered. But it was one that Klein thought of often. Perhaps it really was the end times. Perhaps Winchester's joke was more real than the pampered fool believed. Perhaps they were the last generations of humans to walk the world. Perhaps the Queen would show no mercy, would show no desire but for blood and destruction, the ravenous appetite of the Grimm brought down upon them all.

It mattered not. His duty was to serve.

And so Klein carried out his duty.

**As always, thanks to Renarde and Danish for feedback!**

**Jaune is now 0-2 in fistfights, and, yes, I know this will make some people mad :) Much like in canon, Jaune's gotta learn how to fight before he'll start winning. But I think he's also, as Yang explains, gotta eschew a preoccupation with winning as well—Jaune's got to accept what it means to _lose, _and that's a key part of his growth. Something from the chapter with his first fight with Yang was Jaune realizing that he's entering a stage in his life where _somebody _has to lose with the choices he's making. And I think the same could be said for Blake. To stop trying to be in control all the time, to always present everything like it's going to be okay, before you just _snap. _Whether some introductory _W__u Wei _from Yang is enough to teach Jaune this lesson in time, well, we'll see.  
**

**I've been asked if there's going to be WhiteRose in this fic, and I have to say, Weiss isn't really in a state for any kind of romantic relationship. Frankly, Ruby isn't mature enough for a romantic relationship either, even if she does seem to have a crush on Jaune. But Ruby and Weiss are just besties.  
**

**Also, I now have a Twitter account for my fanfic, at SeleneSokal. I'm looking at possibly branching out into other forms of fanwork, so I figured it was time to have a nice, centralized location for my accounts!**


	16. The Power Of Words

**CW: Murder**

"Good evening, Vale. I'm Lisa Lavender."

The voice from the television was smooth, professional. A broadcaster's voice. An accent selected to be as neutral and easygoing as the people of Vale would expect. With the sort of authoritative directness that suggested trustworthiness and honesty. General James Ironwood was used to that—he'd certainly done similar things in his own rise, as much as he liked to think of himself as a straightforward and direct military man. But Lavender's voice carried an undeniable fear for him, a sense of threat and worry, made worse by the _other _voice currently in his room.

"You know what my concerns are, General," the voice on the speakerphone crackled. Incisive, direct, commanding—but a politician's voice, a breed distinct from news broadcasts and military command. "Your own intelligence tells us this is _clearly _the work of a charm offensive and I don't-"

"I've heard your concerns, Councilwoman Hill," _or, I should say, I've heard Jacques Schnee's concerns, _"But I want to listen to this as neutrally as I can before we even consider action."

Hill, of course, had a response to that. A moment of silence where James could _feel _her roll her eyes. Usually, the two of them enjoyed a fairly respectful relationship—a contentious, often oppositional one, but one marked by mutual respect. He knew Hill was rolling her eyes at him right now because she'd done it in person enough times. But she did it because she was a fierce advocate for her constituents in Mantle and her resolute sense of what was right.

But Robyn Hill had a weakness and that weakness with Jacques Schnee. James knew that the more crass rumors about the two were baseless nonsense, and even his financial backing for her campaign didn't give him much leverage—they'd been on the opposite side of enough issues to confirm that. No, Robyn's weakness was that, in one respect, she _wholly _agreed with the grieving father and widower. And that was when Salem was involved.

Jacques wanted action. Wanted it _now. _And he didn't care about Atlas or anything else in Remnant so long as he got his daughter back and knew that Salem was dead. James was the fiercest advocate for militarism in all of Remnant, but Jacques would torch the whole world and salt the ground behind him so long as it fed his revenge. And that enthusiasm, bordering on madness, made him very persuasive to some people. Made him able to hide the _vengeance _that James could so clearly see in his heart, and so he and Hill were finding themselves in a tense standoff where Salem and the claimed were concerned.

He was going to add another remark, but the interview was coming, and that had precedence over either of them. "Fifteen years ago," Lisa Lavender's voice, heavy with drama, took hold of the room, "five children were taken from the world of Remnant. Tonight, one of them comes forward for an exclusive interview, to speak about his experiences and to tell his story."

Of all the things James Ironwood had had to worry about… he didn't think it'd be this. The military of Atlas, the Committee, every organization he had authority in had spent thousands upon thousands of man hours trying to get an idea of what to expect, what to _prepare _for when the children were returned. What state they'd be in, and what threats to them would need to be countered.

He never thought the children themselves would be a threat.

Oh sure, there was a theorized plan for what to do if the children had been indoctrinated to Salem in their years in her care. If they were, as Hill had put it, the "charm offensive" to set up Salem's invasion of Remnant. That had concerned him, and they were operating off a modified version of the playbook they'd crafted for that situation, but…

Even _Oz _hadn't known that Salem was capable of turning five children into… whatever she was. It was rare to encounter a situation where Oz didn't know anything about the situation, but at this… his old friend was _truly _at a loss.

So without Ozpin's guidance and wisdom, there was nothing else James could do but watch as the interview unfolded.

* * *

Nervously, Jaune glanced to Cinder, whose face was a mask of neutral disinterest.

She had been wary about this plan, but Jaune had convinced her that he knew what he was doing. Or, at least, he thought he might have. Jaune had _no idea _what he was doing, and he was certain that Cinder knew that. But… he was the Prince. _Her_ Prince. She didn't have the authority to stop him, even if this was a huge mistake.

Blake shot him a confident smile, and Jaune felt better knowing she was here. Blake was by far the smartest person he knew, and she had done _so much _to prepare him for this. But even more than her notes and talking points or the tricks she'd taught him, he appreciated that she was here, giving him her support. She meant the world to him. All of his sisters did, but Blake, he knew, was the one who did what she could to take care of problems in their family before Jaune even found out. And he would never not be grateful for her.

But no more time to ponder or think, Lisa Lavender was now sitting down, the lights were coming up, cameras on—time for the show.

Ms. Lavender was speaking to the camera—she had to introduce this, he knew—but once she finished giving the introduction and the summary, she announced, "With me tonight is Prince Jaune of the Grimmlands, here, for the first time in fifteen years, to share his story. Thank you for coming on the show."

"Thank you for having me," he replied with the practiced casual tone that Blake had taught him. He knew the cameras on him were portals to the eyes of the entire world—on every continent and Kingdom, and surely… there was a feed in the Grimmlands that was being watched very closely right now.

"I suppose my first question is about your _name. _You were born 'Jaune Arc,'" he tried not to flinch as he heard that name, "but as I understand it, you no longer go by that address. So: what should I call you?"

"Thank you for asking, Ms. Lavender. My title is Prince Jaune, and I do not have a last name since the Separation. I am Prince of the Grimmlands, and Heir to Queen Salem."

"You don't have a last name? But what does that mean with your family?"

Jaune swallowed. "I… spoke with my former family when I first returned to Vale. We spoke about… that matter, but the simple truth is… my name has been changed, much like I have been changed, not just in title but also," he gestured to his eyes, "and I do not wish to pretend that my prior life reflects some 'true me' that _this _is an aberration from. We all grow and change from our experiences, and my name reflects that."

Ms. Lavender seemed appeased by that answer, and Jaune hoped it was because he'd given a good one, and not because she needed to move the interview forward. "And I'm also joined by another guest," and Ms. Lavender signaled towards Yang, who waved to the camera, her cool, casual self-assurance immediately making Jaune feel _way _more self-conscious about his own stiffness.

"I'm Yang Xiao Long, team leader of Team YRRN at Beacon," she shot a dazzling smile to the cameras, "I'm here because I beat the Prince in a training spar and told him, welp, I'm gonna be on the interview, too."

"You fought the Prince of the Grimm?" Ms. Lavender asked, a well-performed note of fake surprise, concealing that they'd already told _her _this. But, Jaune supposed, she had to play it up for the cameras.

"_Twice," _Yang smugly corrected, "and we're 2-0 now, so if he wants me to stop hanging around, he's got to start winning. Plus," she looked to him with a smirk, "this _was _my idea in the first place. I just thought that, if people got to _meet _the Grimm kids and realize they're not unstoppable juggernauts, but, you know, _like us, _we'd be able to make a lot of progress for peace."

"And that _is _why I'm here," Jaune cut in. "Peace, I mean. The Separation was, I know, a painful experience across Remnant, I've seen the pain it inflicted firsthand. But it also led to a time of growth across Remnant, with the withdrawal of the Grimm. Now that I have grown and been granted my title, I truly do _believe _that, as someone with a foot in both worlds, I can push for a lasting peace between the Kingdoms of Remnant and the Grimmlands."

Though they'd also discussed what they would speak of in advance, Ms. Lavender still seemed surprised to hear it, like she had only just realized that his claims were real now that he was saying it on camera. "That's… quite remarkable. And your statement on peace is very hopeful to us all. But Prince Jaune, I don't think anyone anticipated you might be willing to spar with Huntresses-in-Training, give interviews, or otherwise speak on _behalf _of the Grimmlands—can we ask, then, what is your agenda with this visit?"

A surprisingly pointed question. But Blake had prepped him for this.

"I intend to stay, as planned, until the Vytal Festival, where my siblings and I are looking forward to watching the tournament, and, possibly, having a demonstration spar… just a way to show that we _can _come together with the Kingdoms. But until then, I'm hoping to continue plans of cultural outreach at Beacon, and, if the people of Vale would have me, to experience some more of your wonderful culture. My sisters and I, we _very much _enjoyed the pizza we had from Brio's, and-"

"Really?" Ms. Lavender asked with good humor, her eyes opening a little wider, "Are you sure you wish to wade into such a contentious issue?"

Jaune laughed. _Yang_ had prepped him for this one. "From what I've heard, there's quite a lot of pizza variety in this city, and my sisters and I are _very _excited to expand our palettes and get a chance to weigh in."

"Well," she smiled, "I'm sure you'll get plenty of recommendations on this matter."

Jaune smiled, a sincere smile, fueled by relief more than anything. He was starting to relax, to get into the rhythm of the interview, and he felt like he was really making some progress here.

* * *

Glancing at the TV, Roman had to give the kid credit: he came off well on camera. Lavender had moved on from the more introductory questions onto specifics about his experiences in the Grimmlands and a possible _further _reduction in Grimm populations, and the kid was holding his own—not always the quickest on his feet, but that was good. He was coming off as prepared, but a little unpolished, the sort of person one could trust was sincere and, above all else, human. In spite of those eyes… they didn't just glow red, they really came off as portals straight to hell, even over the TV. Course, Roman had _personal _experience that one of the claimed could come off as all normal and friendly, and he was _still _having nightmares about the way her skin… _morphed. _And the tentacles… _urgh!_

But the Prince was a winner in Roman's book, and when it came to politics, Cinder hadn't been wrong on him there, but… well, it wasn't _his _job to handle the grand strategy elements. He'd been given clear instructions on what he was to do tonight, so he nodded to Junior as he got up from the bar. He'd been at the bar to be seen, so people wouldn't think he had a hand in the next bit, but he had to oversee a few things.

It was funny—he had prepared his exit so that nobody would see him leave, but he could have just sauntered right out. All eyes were glued to the TV, even Junior's. As far as anyone would be able to tell tomorrow, Roman had been there all night.

Slipping to the rooftop, Roman took a deep lungful of the cool night air, wondering about where all this might be heading. Wasn't his job, of course, but survival was the only thing Roman _really _cared about, and the only way to survive was in keeping his eyes open and on the spread. Moving from rooftop to rooftop on the way to his destination gave him plenty of time to think about how a life of crime made him meet a lot of humanity's dark side, but _Cinder _had been a revelation that there was a lot worse out there. And then she introduced him personally to the reality that he'd only scratched the surface on how dark this world got.

Monsters wearing the skin of children… He'd always admired the Grimm for how _straightforward _they were, either eating you or wanting to eat you, nothing but those two settings. Grimm couldn't betray you, couldn't set up a trap for you, couldn't make your death long and slow, the way so many in the slums slowly gave into despair. But it turned out, the Grimm _can _trick you. Make you think you're talking to a dippy, starstruck teen only to see that she was _all Grimm _when it came to it.

He idly wondered about the rumors he'd heard that there was division in the White Fang, that the Wild Bull himself was finding himself with the same cold feet Roman was feeling right now, finding that everything he assumed about good and evil got shaken up by the revelation that there were things even darker than humanity even dreamed of, the sort of thing that put all of them, human and Faunus, criminal and police and military and ordinary schmoes on the same side against the creatures of nightmare.

A real pretty thought, but Roman knew where that shit led you. They were all pawns in a game, and Roman could see the board. Flipping sides still meant you got sacrificed when you weren't convenient any longer.

Case in point… he'd reached his destination. The case had been left exactly where Neo had let him know to look, and Roman quickly popped it open and began deploying the sniper rifle. Not as elegant a weapon as Melodic Cudgel, but the right tool for the right job, and right now, the rifle fit him as surely as he fit Cinder's agenda. And Roman was going to keep it that way.

Gazing down the scope, he saw his target: oblivious, red-faced Isaac Plum.

Businessman-turned-activist, someone that _Winchester _prick had some close ties to. Right now, he was preaching to a rather considerable crowd, railing about the undeniable danger the "monster children" posed to them all, the wolves in sheep's clothing who were plotting to kill them all. Well, in Roman's eyes, he sympathized with the man. He wasn't _wrong, _but he was tragically unprepared for just how many monsters there were in the world, children of the Grimmlands or children of Remnant, and that was about to cost him dearly. Alas, Cinder wanted a riot in the streets, so…

He squeezed the trigger, a _bang _shattering the night air.

* * *

Jaune laughed. "No, I don't think the Grimmlands have much to offer in terms of cultural exchange. I recently shared some of our music with some young students, and they… well, I have to admit, if there was a battle of the bands, I don't think we'd exactly _place."_

He was thankful for having Yang with him. She was very good at chiming in strategically, not enough to interrupt or steal the spotlight, but setting him up for a good answer, or buying him a minute or two to think through his response. And Ms. Lavender seemed to appreciate the two of them, too. She'd been really hitting him with some hard questions that made him _deeply _appreciative of Blake's prep work, but Jaune, even in his own assessment, held his own here. As Blake told him, Lisa Lavender wasn't his enemy: there was an interview in their minds they both could be happy with, and Jaune was finding that was quite true. She wanted something engaging and informative, and Jaune could give that. Blake had kept his mind sharp on what he could answer or how he could approach a tough question, and Yang was helping him achieve what she'd told him was possible: showing Remnant that he _wasn't _a monster, that he was what Yang or his sisters saw when they looked at him. And Ms. Lavender was letting him show that to the world. But she still had to press him...

"But to the original question, with your plan for peaceful outreach: does Queen Salem back you on this?"

Blake told him to expect this question. Blake had had him _practice _this answer over a dozen times until he could do it by reflex. But to speak on Mother's behalf, to a human, before the eyes of the world… with _Mother _watching...

"Queen Salem," he swallowed, "has granted me full authority to direct this visit, and has done so with the knowledge that I have pledged to seek peace. She has said that this is my domain, and she will honor the agreements I make in her name."

Was it true? Jaune didn't know. Mother was… not inclined to peace. But she still _gave _him this opportunity to _try. _Maybe she didn't believe he could succeed, but she'd given him her word, and she had _firmly impressed _upon him that Royalty did not give their word on trivial matters. It was _not _something that could be taken back easily once given. But did he believe her?

Ms. Lavender seemed to have the same question.

"But can we trust the Queen's intentions when you yourself are an example of the startling development of human-Grimm hybrids?"

The Darkness within him seemed to unsettle, bubbling and hissing like a noxious swamp within his soul. It did not want him to accept the question. He heard Mother's voice inside it, the lessons she'd taught him. That they were _above _the rabble of the world. That he did not have to _answer _to that question, and every millisecond he hesitated, the urges of the Darkness grew _stronger._

"All we can do is hope." Jaune could feel the rambling start, that he was just speaking to speak so that his mouth didn't have to admit he was _totally _out of his depth and that he should just _shut. up. _but Jaune kept on rolling, hoping to bull on through it and find _something _that sounded like it made sense. "My sisters and I, we've been changed by our experiences, yes. But we also formed a bond no different from what I've seen among other students at Beacon, bonds of family and friendship, and I believe… I believe that if we _truly _try to treat each other in good faith, taking a _risk _that we might be able to trust one another… I think it's possible for us to find that we aren't enemies by nature. That we can... that there are people in this world I care for, just as I care for my family in the Grimmlands. And... I think the reverse is true, that there are those in Beacon who have met my sisters and I with such openness and hospitality that I can tell they _care _for us like we're any other citizen of Remnant. And from that, I... I think we can _truly_ begin to work for peace."

Ms. Lavender took a moment to let his words sink in, her expression indicating that he _had _done a good job, but Jaune wasn't looking to her. He looked to Blake.

And she was smiling.

* * *

Taking up the remote, James turned off the television, and took a moment of silence to collect his thoughts. To ponder. To stall for time before he had to hear what he didn't want to hear, to say what he didn't want to say.

But only a moment's delay could be afforded to that.

"Councilwoman Hill?" he asked the phone, "Your thoughts?"

There was another silence before the speakerphone crackled to life. "I think you know what I think, General."

"Not convinced, huh?" he asked with a dry chuckle.

She wasn't in the mood for humor, though. "Quite the opposite. This _is_ a charm offensive—she's found _exactly _what we're most at risk for and she's exploiting it well. We're a divided planet, and if she can create enough doubt, Vacuo and Vale will almost certainly be wary of cooperating with us."

"Well, Slate'll be happy," James mused, "he's always been wary of taking the military approach, and the boy's just opened the door for a more diplomatic approach between-"

"You _can't_ be serious."

"What do you mean?" he asked, surprised that _he _wasn't the more hawkish voice this time around, "I see this as an opportunity, a chance for us to pursue a new option in furthering Headmaster Ozpin's overtures to this Prince."

Another silence. A bad one.

"But not an option we'll be taking." Hill said, her voice clear on its finality. "A decision has already been made."

That gave him pause.

"What do you mean, Councilwoman?" he asked, wary for what he might hear.

"We held a special Council session, General."

James hadn't known about that. It was rare when there was movement in Atlas he wasn't either formally or informally aware of, particularly not with the Council. He held 40% of the seats, which meant he could only be overruled by unanimous consent of the other Council members. He was used to having power tilted in his direction, not being shut out of something so crucial.

"I… I was not aware of this," he replied, cautious not to admit too much.

"We invoked Article 15," Hill dryly informed him. James was… surprised but not shocked. He was always aware that Article 15 was a tool the Council held, even if it was a rarely used one.

To ensure the civilian government's parallel authority to the military, the Atlesian constitution allowed the Council to have votes without the presence of the military commander—and since he was also held the Headmaster's seat, that meant the three remaining seats were the only deciding power on this. "And we reviewed several courses of action present to us at this time. We've voted. It was unanimous. Pursuant to Article 15, your voting duties on the Council have been superseded for your duty as Commander-in-Chief. General, you _will _carry out the instructions of the Atlesian government."

"Is this _your _will, Councilwoman?" he asked through gritted teeth, "Or is this the voice of _Jacques Schnee?"_

"My independence from Jacques should _not _be in _question,_" she shot back, and James could see he had overstepped in his accusation, "We've certainly fought enough in the past, but on this issue, my constituents and I agree: we need to prepare for action against Queen Salem and the Grimm—and that includes her Heir."

"You _heard _him!" he shot back, abandoning any pretense of equanimity, "I _cannot _risk the lives of… of the _entire _world against someone who is making a _sincere _effort at peace! Headmaster Ozpin has-"

"Headmaster Ozpin is _not _in your chain of command, General." And that was when James knew how grave this situation was. This wasn't a discussion between peers. These were orders. "We are recalling you to Atlas so as to better coordinate what course of action we deem necessary to prepare for this new threat against Remnant. For the time being, the Council has selected Specialist Schnee to oversee actions in Vale."

James was certain that was intended to be a pacifying gesture—everyone knew Winter was his most trusted student, but at the same time, he felt wary about it. Winter's objectivity had been… compromised, and while he thought the world of his protégée, and prospective Maiden, James knew that still waters ran deep, and what many people saw as cold, emotionless efficiency was but a mask of calm over the full depths of Winter's personality.

But more importantly, the Council had effectively voted for war. Yes, they were merely asserting their authority to force him to return to Atlas and "prepare for this new threat," but James could read between the lines. They were stripping him of his voting authority because they were about to grant him full liberty to use the might of Atlas against Salem.

"James..." he heard Robyn sigh across the telephone, "You know as much as I do. You've read the profiler reports, you've seen the intelligence I have. Whatever else is going on, the Queen of the Grimm is preparing for a war. We _will_ be at war, regardless of what we want, regardless of what _he _wants. Whether he's part of the plan or a useful dupe, we have to take these actions in the context that it's in the lead up to war."

Robyn's voice was as cold as steel. The way she would've been trained back when she was a student at Atlas. Back when he was just a combat instructor. Now, he was a General and she was a Councilwoman, her words backed by the full authority of the government and people of Atlas.

"A war we can't win without seizing the first strike..." he mused.

"We swore an oath to ensure the safety of the people of Atlas. We have a duty to the entire world to protect it against the Grimm. We knew this wouldn't be easy, but," he could hear the regret in her voice, "it's our job to make the hard choices."

What else could be said?

"Very well, Councilwoman. I will make plans to return to Atlas immediately."

And that was it for their call.

Pouring himself a stiff drink, James took a moment to look over the skyline of Vale, hearing the sirens and noise of what was surely a riot—probably a clash caused by pro-Salem forces feeling cocky enough to reveal themselves—and wonder what the future held for them all.

James had been preparing for this day for years. Since before he was even a General, he knew that the day would come when Remnant would have to acknowledge that peace with Salem was but a temporary delusion. She had no agenda but conquest; she revealed herself only to sow chaos and despair. And she was likely winning. What he had hoped would be a new era of peace and cooperation had been anything but, and the world was now more divided than ever, just in time for their common enemy to swoop in and take them all.

But he hadn't wasted time. Atlas was strong, the greatest military power to ever exist. His men were well trained and well equipped. He had prepared extensively for what would happen, in any scenario, and… and he knew about things bigger than the Maidens. Power that Ozpin knew about that could even check Salem herself. At the highest level of secrecy, he'd spoken to the _highest _authority on the matter and asked: could this plan kill Salem?

And the answer was _yes._

And yet, this felt… wrong.

He had been the loudest voice for war readiness, to sidestep every treaty, every diplomatic overture because, like it or not, the _entire world _would soon be at war, and he'd rather have an army of Huntsmen already prepared, rather than rely on limited recruitment for Specialists. He had covertly pushed for Mistral to develop Special Operations Directive Black and knew the details of Vale's Task Force: RENEGADE GOLD as well as Vacuo's Royal Decree 47. These were the individual kingdom's plans for war with the Queen… but divided, they were insufficient. The military of Atlas should be working with all the Kingdoms, supplying technology and training, making them the vanguard of a unified army of Remnant, prepared to fight the enemy that had menaced their world for as long as history could remember.

But he didn't think Jaune was their enemy.

Ozpin had brought it up to him, after a meeting he had with the young man following the attack on the Schnee family and Specialist Ebi, wherein he gifted Oz with a weapon of incredible value. James had suspected a bribe, but Oz proposed another theory: naivete. The boy simply didn't _realize _how valuable the Sword of Ozma was, and was just looking for a legitimately grand and sincere gesture. He was _nothing _like Salem, not a smooth-talking diplomat or a master deceiver, but… a boy. An often hesitant and fumbling young man, not a failure, but not… not the Heir of the Grimm.

That was what he'd seen on the television. Not a manipulator. A boy.

Everything he'd followed with the claimed painted a picture of young people who had endured much and yet, still held their heads high. One had put one of his men in the hospital, but that _same _man had come to James to tell him that he could only treat the claimed as youths caught in a traumatic situation. James admired them, thought they were an example of Remnant's enduring spirit, even if their bodies had been so thoroughly warped. He did not want to go to war against that—that was what they were going to war to _protect _from their evil Queen. And James knew that Oz would have objections to any plan that treated them like enemy combatants.

Downing the last of his drink, James took a moment to think about all he had to do to get ready, to brief Specialist Schnee of what she needed to know, to prepare himself for meeting with the Council to give his tactical assessment… and then he poured himself another drink. The world was turning faster than he liked, but he could take a moment and _demand, _however futile it was, that it slow down for one gods-damned minute.

**Thanks to Renarde and Danish for feedback!**

**~Oooh, title drop~**

**So we've got the geopolitical situation as sort of the third conspiracy, and I hope that Ironwood and Robyn's perspectives come off as rational—they're both bracing for the biggest war in human history and taking this with the gravity of knowing that any mistake will cost literally millions of lives. Still, Ironwood's a man of integrity, but part of that integrity is his duty, and he's caught between a lot of conflicting pressures. Robyn, on the flip side, has taken a different career path in a Mantle where the SDC's had a very different trajectory.**

****Ironwood's plan _can_ actually kill Salem. There's a hint to what it is, and the progress he's made for it, in this chapter.****

**Also, all the stuff about Article 15 is made up for this fic, of course, but I do like that, canon-wise, the only check on Ironwood's power is unanimous opposition from the civilian side of the government. Atlas has the appearance of a democratic state, but with even minor politicking on Ironwood's side, there's no meaningful check on his power.**

**Finally, I have a blog post linked on my Twitter (at SeleneSokal) that talks a little bit about some of the themes of this story and my writing process. I like writing about writing, so if there's interest in more of that, I've got an off-site space where I can put it without making these bold notes huge.**


	17. Emerald's Truth

Cinder Fall was _everything _to Emerald.

She was cool. Composed. Effortlessly took control of a room, bossed everyone around, and just always had the upper hand. An adult.

When Emerald's body started changing out of her control, when she was terrified that the Darkness was turning on her, discovering that she didn't belong, Ms. Fall had been the one to sit her down and explain that this was normal. She was normal. That her sisters would experience the same thing soon enough and that… that she was just going through it earlier. A sign that she was becoming an adult. That it was a good thing.

It meant the world to her. It was the first time she'd ever heard Ms. Fall be compassionate, and it was a dearly cherished memory.

But how did she reconcile that with… with what she knew about herself now, with what Ms. Fall had been hiding from her? Surely, she knew about her secret fears and uncertainties—Ms. Fall knew _everything_—so how had she missed this?

There needed to be answers. All her life, Emerald had been avoiding asking the questions that burned in the back of her mind, the questions of who she really was—as a "fake," as a woman, as _everything she was_—and she wasn't going to let it burn in silence any longer. She had to track down Ms. Fall.

It wasn't hard to find her. Outside of meetings and meals, she mostly kept to the small office she kept in her quarters. And while Ms. Fall was an extremely careful woman, Emerald wasn't human. There weren't many she couldn't sneak up on.

"Ms. Fall," she said, calmly announcing her presence.

"Hmmm?" was her only response, not even looking up from her paperwork. "Oh, Emerald? I don't recall asking for-"

"We have to talk."

That got her attention. Ms. Fall's eyes shot up in surprise, but also… she couldn't hide the resignation on her face. The sense of "So, it's finally happening." What, exactly, she was expecting, Emerald couldn't tell, but that she knew, it- it…

It made her mad.

Years upon years of quiet adoration and dutiful attention had papered over a quiet rage that Emerald had always felt within her. A quaking frustration at herself that she couldn't just be normal, vented outwards at everyone else around her. Her jealousy that Pyrrha was able to just rage while Emerald had to keep herself composed and orderly. And a quiet, seething fury that, for all the orders she took, nobody could just tell her what to do to fix her!

"Ms. Fall," she began, trying to recollect if she had a speech prepared for this. She'd been thinking about this for _days,_ ever since the party, trying to picture how this would go down. Hearing from Coco and Velvet and Qrow and Clover, hearing how they said it, imagining herself in their shoes. But it gave her no clarity here. None of them were raised to be an instrument of royal vengeance and dark justice. And so she had only one thing to say.

"I'm gay."

"Oh."

That was it. And, at once, there were two Emeralds. One who realized that what she had just done, for the very first time, out loud, had said exactly what she meant. No hedges. No uncertainty. I. Am. Gay. And it felt like the opening of a door, a rush of cool air into a stuffy room, her lungs breathing for the first time as she finally opened up, the weight unbound, the light streaming in and she was herself.

But there was another Emerald. An Emerald who knew that what she felt in this moment… it wasn't there in Cinder Fall's face. She had bared her soul to her mentor, the person who, outside of her family, meant the most to her and it had just been "Oh."

It wasn't dismay or shock or disappointment or even the neutrality of accepting a fact to be recorded and stored for later use. Emerald was a master of reading faces and she could see, plainly written before her eyes, the _guilt._

"You knew, didn't you?"

And Cinder just stared at her, silently, struggling to comprehend that Emerald, loyal, dutiful Emerald, had challenged her.

"Why didn't you tell me."

It wasn't a question. Questions had answers. Emerald's statement was just a truth of her self. The confusion, the betrayal, the hurt inside, expressed outwards. She didn't give Cinder time to answer. Not that she had an answer.

"You could have helped me. Could have given me guidance. Could have just- could have just told me that I wasn't a freak! Do you- do you know what it was like? Growing up and feeling that there was something wrong with me? That I just wasn't normal like Pyrrha or Blake, that there was something broken inside me that made me just- just wrong?"

Cinder could no longer hold Emerald's accusatory gaze, her eyes dropping downward. "I… I never," suddenly her eyes shot upwards and Emerald almost staggered backwards, seeing her mentor for the first time ever without a carefully composed face, but one with eyes wild in panic and remorse, "Please! Emerald, I just didn't know how to… I'm not… I'm not good at… matters like this."

But surprise quickly gave way to fury. "When you first came to Mother's service, do you remember why I came to you?"

"You had…" her voice dutifully answered, even as she clearly did not wish to, "you had just experienced menarche and were frightened because your body was changing on account of puberty."

"I was _scared,"_ she hissed back, "And you told me it was going to be alright. That I. Was. Normal. That I was going to be alright, that my sisters would experience it soon enough, too, that I had nothing to worry about. You listened to me and held my hand, that was the woman I was loyal to! You can't tell me you're 'not good at this' when that has _always_ been why I've followed you!"

She could taste Cinder's fear, but she didn't want fear, she wanted- wanted… Emerald didn't know what she wanted. This had become so much more than just one thing, an entire lifetime of her service, her _identity_ now in question, but all her pain and anguish and fury and hate poured out in a desperate need to just purge all of this from her!

"Cinder!" she cried out, using her name like a weapon, "Are you a good person?"

No answer.

How many lectures, how much _training _had she endured to be "above morality?" To do what needed to be done without question or remorse, but in all that time... Emerald had always had faith that it was the right thing to do. That even if Mother was cruel and and mean and frightening, she could still trust Jaune and Cinder. That she would still be okay so long as she stayed with them.

"Answer me!"

"No..." she finally answered, her voice low and haunted. "No. I'm not."

"Then… then..." Emerald wasn't sure what to say next. What to do other than to vent her rage and pain through her words? "Then why? Why did you… I just… I just want to understand why?"

Cinder's eyes were dull, dead orbs, unable to express any emotion other than her deep exhaustion. "You need to know… that I'm a coward."

Of all the answers Emerald had prepared herself for, she hadn't been expecting that. It was so surprising, so out of left field, that a flicker in the back of her mind worried that it was a lie, a deflection, but… Cinder would never admit a fault like that. And she was a phenomenal actor and liar, but Emerald knew the bone-deep weariness she saw on Cinder's face wasn't faked. The pain was real.

Still. Even if Cinder wasn't lying, Emerald didn't know _how_ to believe it. "You… you can't be, that can't be it."

She gave a harsh laugh. "I'd like to believe that. But I know… I know that I'm a coward. I have always… thought in terms of what would keep me alive. How to stay on top of the danger, and so… I thought of morality as a distraction. A luxury."

"You _taught_ me that. That can't be it!"

Emerald knew her questions were causing pain to her mentor, but she knew she had to push forward, that she had to make her give her the truth.

Cinder merely looked back at her. "Because that thinking taught me that everything I did was just a way to survive. That I was… right to do it. And when I started to see that that wasn't the case… I couldn't stop. I'd gone so far, and I didn't have the courage to do the right thing."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"Emerald..." she said, her voice pleading, but finding no mercy in her protégée's face, "I thought… at first, I thought you merely had a crush on me, and I didn't-"

Emerald reeled at that, that she would presume...

Oh.

Her mouth felt suddenly dry. She had always thought of her identity in terms of whether or not she liked Jaune, never in terms of who she might actually like, and Cinder… oh, hell, she had been… ohhh this was a realization. This was another realization.

Cinder just shook her head. "That… doesn't excuse anything, but I thought it would be an awkward conversation I wanted to avoid. But then… then I..." her voice grew choked and strangled, "I didn't want to talk to you about love, because I… how could I talk to you about feelings? About caring for someone? I couldn't… I could never..."

But as she continued her explanation, Emerald realized something else this meant. Something else quiet and painful.

"You were never going to marry him, were you?"

"...No."

"You don't even like Jaune."

Her eyes suddenly got wide at the implication. "Emerald, it's not- it's…" Then they dimmed once more. "No. Not like that."

The tears started to well up in Emerald's eyes and there was nothing she could do, not with her powers, not with her training, to make them _stop._

"So, what, was _lying to me _about it all just a big joke? A way to keep dumb, excitable Emerald loyal to you? Or did you just like knowing that-"

"Emerald, please!"

Emerald didn't want to give her an inch, to even allow Cinder a chance to defend herself, but she had to. She had to.

Because Cinder was crying.

"I never… I didn't..."

It felt like Emerald was looking at Cinder for the first time in her life. Was this… was this the same woman Emerald had devoted so much of herself to? She seemed so… so frail. Emerald and her sisters were capable of tearing apart an entire army between them, and Cinder… she looked weak.

But rather than moving her to contempt, as no less than Cinder had trained her to do, Emerald felt pity. Cinder was… not the imperious Ms. Fall, who knew everything and had everything figured out. She was lost, too. Just like Emerald.

Emerald looked down, a welling sorrow in her breast. "I… Ma'am, I'm sor-"

"No." Cinder cut her off, "You have nothing to be sorry for. When you were… when I first met you, I thought… I thought I knew how the world worked. That I was strong enough to face it, to become… cynical. Cruel. That I had to teach you..."

But she stopped, looking away. When she raised her eyes back to Emerald's gaze, she could see something hollow and broken inside them. Something that had long since broken inside her. "No… I'm lying to you again," she laughed, barely more than a rasping whisper, "I told myself I was stronger and making you stronger, but you were right… I saw you as a tool. Your loyalty would ensure my survival, and I told myself… that was the only thing that mattered."

"What changed."

"Jaune," she answered and chuckled, darkly, at Emerald's surprise, "I don't… love him, not in the way you thought I did, but I… I respect him. More than anyone else I've ever met. I had thought I had seen the worst of the world, had seen the harsh truth. My village burned when I was a child, I watched my parents die before my eyes, and I told myself… I had just finally seen the truth that everyone was trying to hide from. That the world is cruel, life is meaningless, and all that matters is power, but Jaune..." she blinked away a tear, "when I first met him, it was to pull him out of that wretched pit the Queen created for him. He was half-mad, his teeth chattering in fear, a level of fear that made me afraid that I'd been tasked to raise a madman, but… the four of you, you pulled him back. He'd seen… he'd seen what that- that witch," she snarled, a fury towards Mother that made Emerald recoil in shock, to hear such disobedience so bluntly stated, "had put him through, and yet… he didn't see the... what I thought was the truth. Once he came back to his senses, he… he asked about you. To make sure you were… doing better. And that's when I began to realize the real truth—I saw the horrors of the world and I- I broke," a choked sob emerged from her mentor, as Cinder leaned forward, her body overtaxed by the ordeal. "But not everyone breaks. Not everyone..."

Without thinking, Emerald wrapped her arms around Cinder.

"You're not broken," she whispered, "Jaune- Jaune tells us all the time, we're not broken."

"I know you're not," she said, wiping a tear from her eye, "You are strong, Emerald, stronger than you even realize."

"I'm not strong, I-"

"Strong enough to confront me for everything I put you through." Emerald was silent at that. "You have faced the legacy of a _god,_ have seen the heart of all the world's evil and you… the five of you, you're not like Salem, you're not like… like me."

Emerald just held her tighter.

Her head resting on Emerald's shoulder, Cinder continued, quietly, whispering into her student's ear. "You are kind. You support those you care about. You would do anything to keep your siblings safe, and you wouldn't even think twice to sacrifice yourself if that would save the rest of you, and I- I can't- I can't imagine having that kind of courage. I have used you and manipulated you for as long as I've known you, and you… you're comforting me as I tell you this."

"I- I'm not-" she protested, the compliments more painful than any rejection, "I'm so scared, all the time, and I never know if I'm doing the right thing or if I'm just making everything worse, and-"

"Emerald, you're… a better woman than I am," Cinder told her, "You're incredibly talented, you've done so much for your family, and… you just have to realize that. If you could see the brilliant young woman I see right now… you would never doubt yourself again."

There was no response she had for this. So, silently, she just held her mentor closer in her embrace. They had… they had been through so much together. She'd learned so much from Cinder. And… Emerald had… Emerald had taught her so much as well.

She didn't know what this meant for the future. Cinder was still Mother's majordomo and still the coordinator of so many plans they had for the world of Remnant, but… Emerald felt alright. Even if the power structure had changed, she felt okay. Okay with herself and with Cinder. Emerald felt strong, for the first time in years, truly strong, and she had a feeling what she had to do now.

* * *

Who was she?

That question had surrounded Emerald for her entire life, and now… for the first time ever, she finally felt like she might be able to figure it out. But as much as she'd done, as accomplished as she felt—Cinder finally saw her as an equal!—there was more to be done. And what was left… even coming off the most cathartic and healing moment of her _life, _it filled her with dread.

She had to face Jaune.

She could work her way up. Tell Blake. Tell Weiss. Tell… Pyrrha. But no, she knew she'd just be putting off what was the inevitable.

For all her life, for as far back as she could remember, Emerald had felt, deep in the core of her being, deep within her soul, beneath even the Darkness that pulsed in all of them, she felt a deep and abiding love for her brother. They all did. He was their protector. He was the one who won them food and shoes and beds, and he bore Mother's anger when they got in trouble. He was everything to them. To all of them.

But Emerald soon realized that what she felt for Jaune wasn't what her sisters felt. Pyrrha and Blake, they felt something hidden beneath the skin, something they didn't let show. Blake hid it better than Pyrrha, but it didn't take long for Emerald to realize that a fire burned deep inside the both of them. A fire Emerald didn't feel at all.

She had felt she was wrong in some way—she always felt she was wrong in some way, so this was just more proof that she didn't belong here. She tried to find a substitution, to present Cinder to her brother as an alternative option. That way, she could still fulfill that duty she felt to him through her mentor, even if she could never feel it herself. Or… she shapeshifted. Wore the shape of Pyrrha or Blake or Cinder and tried to make herself think like them.

At the time, she feared that she was like Weiss, that something had broken inside of her, something that failed to grow and develop, smothered in the Darkness in her soul. But now she knew… she knew, and Cinder had confirmed it… that there was nothing wrong with her and how she felt for Jaune.

So why was she still so frightened to tell him?

Wandering through the halls of Beacon, Emerald felt the eyes of the school upon her, but, unlike previous days, there was no mockery or spite. Word of the party, of their joint mission, or just Jaune practicing with Yang in the sparring room had made them a much more normal feature, even if they were extraordinary visitors. But she'd wandered enough. It was time to head back to their quarters. It was time to find Jaune.

It wasn't hard to find Qrow. He was with Amber and Clover and Mrs. Rose at the security station, discussing something about a riot that had happened during Jaune's speech—Clover sounded like he thought Roman Torchwick had been an agent provocateur, but Emerald didn't think that Roman would do anything to hurt Jaune. Not after what Emerald had done to get his hat. She knew she had impressed the importance of _fear _upon the thief. And Emerald knew well that Jaune hadn't wanted anyone killed, so, rationally, it would have to be something outside of them. But either way, they didn't seem that busy as she knocked on the door.

Amber opened it, a genuine smile crossing her face to see her.

"Oh, hey guys," she called back to the room, "Emerald's here!"

They waved, and Emerald hated how _nice_ it felt to enter a room where everyone liked her.

"I… I need to speak with my brother. About… a thing."

Mrs. Rose was about to ask what she meant, but Qrow cut her off. "He's in your room, I think he's with Pyrrha right now, but…" he ran his eyes down an itinerary in front of him. "I think her and Weiss are going to be doing something in a bit, so you can have the room to yourself pretty easily."

"Thanks," she mumbled, as she turned away.

"Oh, hey," she heard Qrow's voice behind her, making her glance back to his gruff, smiling face. "You've got this. You're braver than you think you are, and you'll do just fine."

Blinking back a tear, she nodded to the smiling faces of who she'd been trained for most of her life to know as her greatest enemies. But she couldn't break down, not now. She needed to be strong. So she choked out another, "Thanks," and headed to their room, where she could see Pyrrha and Weiss already leaving.

"Oh, hey Emerald," Pyrrha said with a smile, "you..." her voice trailed off, seeing the state Emerald was in. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she whispered, "I just… I have to talk to Jaune."

Pyrrha nodded. It didn't require explanation—the four of them all had mood swings and moments of depression, points where the Darkness guided them to their brother for comfort and healing. She quietly shuffled Weiss away as Emerald steadied her nerves and opened the door.

Jaune was inside. Reading through a thick binder that Blake had surely prepared for him about the reception to his speech. She knew that was important, and she hated to interrupt, but… but this couldn't wait. Emerald had to put herself first here. She'd faced Cinder. She couldn't back down now.

Glancing up from his book, Jaune caught sight of her and smiled. How strange it was that so many people in her life would smile just to see her, and yet Emerald never believed that it was sincere? "Oh, hey, Em! What's up?" he asked, cheerfully.

"I… I have something I have to tell you."

Jaune heard the seriousness, the anxiety in her voice and dropped his mood appropriately. "Whatever it is," he said, "you can tell me."

She could feel the blush on her face and the weakness in her legs. The nervousness tracing through her, but at the same time, she knew there were people counting on her. People believing in her. People like Qrow and Amber and Coco and Velvet and Cinder and she could do this.

"Jaune," she said, her voice purposeful, her eyes locked on his, "I'm gay."

There was only a moment of silence as Jaune processed what she meant, but then… a slow smile crept across his face, Jaune's smile, and Emerald's heart leapt in her chest as her brother got up from his chair and pulled her into a hug.

"I… don't know what that means, but I know it's something important to you. So… whatever it is, I'm on your side, Emerald. Always."

Emerald almost had to laugh. Of _course _he didn't know—_she _didn't even know, and she was gay! But... but she heard in his voice that he was telling the truth. He was on her side. She was safe here. All the roiling anxieties in her breast seemed to still, the Darkness inside her pulsing with the warmth of familial love.

"It means… it means I like girls. The way most girls like boys, and I," she swallowed, nervously, "And I don't want to hide it anymore."

"Okay," he said, still processing her words, "but… you're still you, right? Still my sister and-"

"Yes! I'm… I'm your sister. Still. And forever. I just… like girls instead of guys."

Ever since they were children, Jaune had been where Emerald felt safe. Safe from Mother, safe from anything that might seek to harm her. But with this, as frightened as she was, she had been even more frightened to tell Jaune. And so she had no truly safe place until now, until she finally could speak herself to him and be accepted. As she held him tightly, she couldn't shake the words she had just said. _I'm your sister._

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Emerald!" he laughed, "Thank you for telling me—I'm proud of you. I don't… I really don't know what to say?"

"You don't… you're okay with this? Please, tell me if-"

He hugged her tighter. "Of course I'm okay with this. I'm… I'm happy for you Emerald—I can't imagine it was easy for you to tell me, and… I'm just glad you did."

Feeling her tears spring up in her eyes, she did nothing to hold them back. A flood of relief poured down her face as she could finally feel that it was normal. That she was accepted and that she was loved.

"Why… why were you so worried to tell me?" he asked.

It had been hanging over her head for so long now, and yet, no answer seemed to come to mind. "Because… I felt that I wasn't… normal. Because I didn't like you the way Blake and Pyrrha like you." She heard him murmur something in surprise at that, but Emerald was on a roll right now and wasn't about to stop. "And I do like you! I care about you so much, but… not like that. Not like, I want to kiss you or anything. I like girls like that, but that's okay, because… I'm rambling now, aren't I?"

He gave her a weak smile. "It's okay, but, ummm, Emerald?" Jaune asked, "About that… um, other thing you told me… could you ask Pyrrha and Blake to speak with me? Privately?"

Emerald felt liberated, like a weight had been lifted off her chest after years of struggling with it, but Jaune's words… they made her feel like something very big was about to happen.

And Emerald wasn't sure where it would lead.

**Thanks to Renarde and Danish for feedback on this chapter!**

**Missed Pride Month by exactly 1 day for this chapter! But Emerald coming into her own identity and confronting Cinder is really a major turning point of this story. Things have been going well for the claimed, internally, if not externally, but healing and change doesn't come easily and there's a big test of that coming right up. ****And an important aspect of this chapter is that Jaune is sheltered as all hell and about to confront relationship drama head on that _none _of them are equipped to see out in the open. **

**And I'm really excited to have hit 350 faves and 50k views! And, with this chapter, it's now my longest fic! It's quite a milestone, and I appreciate all my readers for bringing me there.**


	18. Love Is Control

**CW: Traumatic Sexual Encounter, References to Child Abuse**

Blake was worried.

Things were good! Her talk with Ren had… rattled her, but had confirmed that Yang wasn't interested in Jaune in _that _way. And the interview had helped confirm her standing with Jaune. She had spent so much time actually _advising _him, carrying out her duties, and, afterwards, _praising _his performance, loving the way he _beamed _at her and told her that it was all thanks to her preparations.

But at the same time…

Yang Xiao Long was, if anything, now _closer _to them than ever. And Blake was now fairly certain that her intentions with Jaune were not… so crass, but that got at a deeper issue in Blake's mind. A more worrying one. The interview had proven that she still had standing, still had a _place _in her brother's world. But it wasn't secure, and Blake lived in _terror _of what might happen if it finally slipped, and she was…

She wouldn't even think it.

But there were always contingencies. Blake always made plans, and she accounted for things slipping. So long as she stayed on top of this, she could… she could just wait it out. Wait until the Festival was over, and then they could return to the Grimmlands.

Where it was safe.

She was idly sketching some of Beacon's architecture when Emerald suddenly came down, in an unexpected hurry. Crooking a curious eye towards her sister, Blake could immediately perceive that she was nervous, though not in her usual way. Odd. Kind of hard to place, to be honest. Like she was worried for Blake… and Blake didn't like that.

"Something the matter?" she asked.

"Um..." Emerald stood there, aimlessly for a moment before finding her words, "J-Jaune would like to speak with you."

Blake's mood brightened immediately. Something at hand that needed _her _assistance? Blake hardly even had time to thank Emerald for relaying the message before she shot off, back to their room.

But when she reached the room, Blake froze as she realized the situation was not what she thought it was. Pyrrha and Jaune were both there, and the look on Jaune's face, that look of nervous uncertainty, told Blake that this was not a conversation he was particularly wanting to have. Not angry, just… awkward. A terrible nervousness on the subject matter.

Starting to place together enough of the pieces, Blake's enthusiasm cooled as she approached the two.

"What's up?" she asked, quietly, "Emerald said you needed to see me?"

"Yeah," he answered, his voice soft, "Emerald, um… Emerald mentioned to me..." his voice trailed off as his eyes drifted down. Blake looked to Pyrrha, who didn't seem to have any better sense of what was troubling Jaune, but seemed very, very unnerved by his hesitant concern.

Suddenly his eyes shot back up to meet Blake's and he blurted out, "Do you have feelings for me!"

What.

_What?_

In an _instant, _Blake's mind exploded down a dozen different lines. Panic at being discovered. Uncertainty as to how he might have found out. Fear at how Jaune might respond to the honest answer. How _Pyrrha _might respond? How could she possibly respond in a way that would work with both him _and _Pyrrha listening? Or could Pyrrha be an asset here? Dammit all, Emerald! Was there a way to-

"No!" Pyrrha blurted out, her face flushed red in a way that made Blake thankful that her pure-white features never blushed, "I mean, I- I didn't- I- I- _Please, _Jaune, please d-don't hate me for-"

"Wait."

Blake raised her hand, silencing Pyrrha and the _stunned _Jaune.

The situation was bad. Control was lost, and Blake knew it. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her adrenaline high. Everything was ruined, and desperation clawed in her mind.

Action was needed. _Now._

Thinking could come later. Blake lunged, faster than Jaune, faster than even Pyrrha, could react, and with a single motion… she kissed him.

Their lips met in a singular moment that _obliterated _Blake's fears. Ever since she had first discovered those books in Ms. Fall's travel bag, Blake had _imagined _what it might be like to kiss a boy, maturing into a wonder of what it would be like to kiss the man she loved. The one person who was worthy, who truly meant everything to her. And it was like… this. Like time stopped as she felt his lips against hers, the suction of her mouth on his skin, the _softness, _the pure, serene softness that she had been trained to eschew as she became his Spy, his Hawk, but could never be wholly removed from her.

Breaking the kiss with a soft _pop, _she came back to reality, feeling the pure, unfettered _shock _of the room that that had just happened. But she knew, she _knew_, that while surprising, they would understand soon that Blake knew what they all wanted. And though this was a… rough way to introduce the matter, she _knew _they would forgive them. After all, she was going to bring _all _of them the happiness she just felt.

"Pyrrha," she instructed, "Kiss him."

Jaune was stunned. Pyrrha was afraid. But she also followed orders. Under Blake's guidance, the way things _should _be, Pyrrha leaned forward and met her Prince's lips with her own.

It was a wondrous sight, enough to melt Blake's heart to see her sister get what she had so _longed _for.

They would- they would share him. Yes, it would ensure that they both got what they wanted. Pyrrha would be his Queen and Blake would be his advisor and Jaune would be happy. They would both make Jaune happy and no one would come between them and they could just be safe and happy and loved together.

As Pyrrha broke the kiss, her eyes were dazed in a wonderment that confirmed to Blake that her kiss had been just as fulfilling as Blake's. It was time for the next step.

"Pyrrha," she said, warmly and sweetly, "We should undress for our Prince. Show him what we would offer him, show him how _grateful _we are for his protection. How much we desire his _love."_

Blake swiftly disrobed, her motions deliberate and tantalizing, making Jaune's eyes go _wide _as he beheld her naked form. Pyrrha was more clumsy in her gestures, still dazed from the kiss, but she _wanted _Jaune, wanted their brother so deeply she did not hesitate to _tear _her clothes off, revealing the harsh, bony plates of her natural armor… but also the soft, supple curves that Blake was _certain _Jaune would enjoy.

She licked her lips, looking at Jaune, frozen in sheer disbelief, but such a lovely, perfect man that she only desired for him to admire her, to appreciate her, to enjoy her body and her service to him, to repay the _boundless _debt of gratitude and fealty she felt towards him. She knew she was beautiful, even if deeply unnatural. Both of them were. No man would resist this. He _wanted _them, Blake knew he wanted them.

"My Prince," she whispered, sashaying closer to her beloved, "Allow us to… serve you, as you deserve. Pyrrha?" she turned to her sister, "I know how much you want him… I won't stand in your way. Just… let me have a taste as well."

But there was no motion. Both Pyrrha and Jaune seemed to need even _more _guidance from Blake to understand their own desires.

"Pyrrha," she whispered, more forcefully, "You _want _this, you've wanted this for _so _long! _Take him!"_

"I..." and Pyrrha, fearless Pyrrha, the Eagle, did what Blake had never seen her do before. She hesitated. "I… can't."

Blake couldn't believe her ears. "W-what? What do you mean—Pyrrha, this is what you _want, _this is what you've _always wanted!_"

"I… I know, but..." and then the tears started running down her face, "He's scared, Blake. Jaune's scared, and I- I _can't!_"

"No..." she looked to Jaune in a panicked dismay, "No, that's not… that's not _true!"_ she whirled to him, pressing her body into his._ "_Jaune, please, you _want _this, you can't- you… you _can't._"

But she saw it clear on his face.

He was afraid.

He was afraid of her.

And Blake felt more wretched and broken in that moment than she'd ever felt. Not since the Pool of Darkness stripped her soul bare and laid it open, telling her that she was _nothing _before the world, had she realized how meager and cruel and _useless _she was.

Unable to hold anything more together, Blake felt her facade crack. Tears streamed down her face as a sudden _sob _overtook her. She was nothing. A wretched, broken creature who'd ruined everything she touched and had almost- had almost-

_What had she done?_

"No… no..." she shook her head, unwilling to admit it, "No, Jaune, you _want _this, you- you w-want _me..." _her voice trailed off into a desperate sob. "Please… J-just… _love me, _Jaune, please, love me..."

Her composure dissolved into a mess of pathetic tears, her disguise failing as her _true _form, ugly, jagged, and malformed, revealed itself. She closed her eyes, unwilling to look at what she'd done, and wanted to find a dark corner, some far-off pit she could hide herself in and _die._ Until she suddenly felt arms around her.

His arms.

The unearned grace of his touch _burned_ her. The pain was excruciating, but she couldn't _let go! _She needed to feel him, to feel some trace of love in her soul, and she clung to him, even as the contrast of herself against his purity and goodness _tore _her soul to pieces. As he clasped them both to his chest, as the three sobbed together, helplessly, as the whole world around them broke down.

Jaune pulled them onto his bed, the place Blake desired more than anything, but now she _hated _invading this space, despoiling it with her presence. She didn't deserve him. Didn't deserve _anything, _but wrapped in his arms, she clung to him, along with Pyrrha, desperately hoping just that he wouldn't cast her out, away from him. Into the darkness.

Slowly, over time, the tears stopped, their breathing slowed, emotional exhaustion overtook them and the pull of sleep drew down Pyrrha, then Jaune. But Blake couldn't sleep. The familiar enclosure of her brother's arms gave her succor but no comfort. Because she knew she didn't deserve it. Because she knew the truth.

She was nothing.

And all she had was him.

* * *

"Nora… go 'way. It's a Ren problem..."

But then Yang was shook, even more insistently, and, with a quick reminder that she couldn't murder her partner's dearest and closest friend (and maybe wife?) blearily opened her eyes and-

TEETH

Yang's eyes shot open, adrenaline surging as a monster loomed over her and instinct kicked in as she threw a wild punch that the boogeyman dipped backwards to dodge.

"Yang! Yang, it's me! I- it's Blake!"

Somehow, Yang's eyes got _wider. _But yeah… she had the ears and the eyes and… Blake had a _tail? _And claws? And the… _how did that many teeth fit into a mouth?_

"I- I'm sorry, I can't- I can't _stop _looking like this, because..." and then she let out a great _sob, _and Yang realized that there was something much more important than fear right now, "Because I need _help! _I need- I need you to help me. I'm scared and I'm lost and I've _ruined everything _and _please, Yang, I-_"

"Okay, okay," she whispered, signaling to Blake to try and keep it down. Though, glancing to her roommates, she was pretty sure as long as they didn't start firing Dust rounds, they'd probably sleep right through _whatever _happened tonight. "Give me a moment to get dressed and we can-" her eyes glanced over to her alarm clock. 3:30 AM? Oh, this was going to be a long day, wasn't it? But, Yang reminded herself, the Beacon kids had issues, and she had made the effort to reach out, so it was up to her to handle these things. "Once I'm dressed, we'll chat it out in the common area. Get some coffee or ice cream or whatever you need to feel more sensible." Blake stammered something, and Yang cut her off. "Uh-uh, I gotta get dressed first, _you_ need to do something to calm down. Get a drink of water, meet me outside, and you and me—we're gonna get through this. Okay? We've got this, together."

Blake quietly dissolved into the darkness—either because Yang's eyes hadn't adjusted or because that was something Blake could literally _do—_and Yang had to take a moment to catch her breath and get her heart rate back to something resembling _reasonable. _This was… this was not a great situation. And she'd need to have her wits about her, have to be clear-focused so that she could handle this. But, like every time Nora woke her up in the middle of the night staring, just an _inch _over Yang's face, she knew it'd take her a few minutes after waking up to _that _before she could breathe properly again.

Glancing upwards, she had to ask herself once again—why had she agreed to give Ren top bunk?

* * *

The common room was deserted this early in the morning. And while Blake was no longer in her "impossible nightmare beast" form, it wouldn't be good for someone to come upon them. Not only for what they were surely about to talk about, but because… well, Blake had managed to get her form _mostly _under control, but… yeah, even though Yang couldn't place exactly what was off, there was something about Blake right now that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

_Alright. Take a moment. Breathe. Important things aren't easy, and you were the one who put yourself into this. And… Jaune and Pyrrha are your friends. And you want to help them. You can do this. Just breathe. You can do this._

"Hey Blake," she started, softly, "I just… I want you to know, whatever you tell me here? I can keep a secret. But if this is something that's dangerous to anyone—anyone at Beacon, any of your siblings, I've gotta get help. Is that okay?"

Blake just nodded, morosely, evidently too exhausted and broken up to say much.

"So..." Yang took a seat, trying to get comfortable. She figured she'd be in this for the long haul. "What… happened?"

"I… I told Jaune… how I feel… about him. That I… like him."

Damn.

_That _was a surprise. This whole time, Yang had been thinking in terms of Pyrrha's crush on Jaune and she hadn't been thinking that there was a love triangle complicating things. Shit, she'd really put her foot into it by trying to lean on Pyrrha, hadn't she...

She could beat herself up later, right now, Blake was what was important. Yang offered her a sympathetic smile. "I take it it didn't go well."

But Blake had more to say, her eyes darting back to the floor. "And I… kind of made a move on him. And I might have… tried to..."

There were tears in her eyes as she struggled to admit to what happened, and Yang had to brace herself, not knowing _what _to expect.

"Him and… and Pyrrha, I dragged, I dragged both of them into it and I tried..." her words were becoming wild and frantic, and Yang felt a knot of dread form in her stomach. "I tried to seduce him. I tried to make Pyrrha help me, and I thought… I thought if we just had sex, then he couldn't… he would _have _to love me."

Yang almost had to sigh in relief. Yes, Blake's answer reflected an unsettlingly unhealthy attitude towards sex and relationships, but Yang had been expecting a lot worse. She felt a twinge of guilt for suspecting Blake of that, though. Perhaps her bias because of how hostile Blake had been to her? But still… nothing that couldn't be walked back.

"But you didn't… you didn't _do _anything," she said, reassuring the Grimm Faunus. "I mean, you didn't do anything that couldn't be... apologized for and taken back, and, I mean, have you and Jaune and Pyrrha talked about-"

"No," she shook her head, but then paused. "Though he… he held me, held both of us… in his arms, and..."

Her voice trailed off.

Jaune was as important to Blake as he was to Pyrrha. Yang had initially thought it had something to do with him being the only boy in their lives, but listening to Blake's tone, the way her eyes grew misty as she thought of him holding her… Yang realized that there was something more than a crush here. This was more than romance, though thinking of it made that little knot of dread start to tug as she was picking up that there was something more going on here.

"Jaune's… really important to you, isn't he?"

Blake gave her a harsh look, annoyed at the obvious question, but Yang had to guide her to talking. "He's… he's always been there for us. He's the only one who ever..."

She trailed off again. Yang wasn't sure she _wanted _to prompt an answer here, but could change tack. "When did you realize you first had feelings for Jaune?"

A pause. Briefly, but then Blake spoke up. "He'd just gotten back from a week in The Hole, and he really wasn't in much of a state, but he… when he recognized me, he _smiled, _and I- I couldn't help myself. It meant _everything _to me that my big brother _smiled _when he saw me and I just… I just wanted to make everything _perfect _so he would smile at me again. That's all I wanted, just to see him _smile _at me like that again. So… pure and beautiful."

Yang had to admit, just like when Pyrrha talked about Jaune, there was something so… _innocent _in their love that her feel a little envious. It wasn't that she had a serious crush on Blake, mostly just teasing her, but she _wished _she had someone who felt that way about her.

But Blake's answer raised a few questions even with her explanation.

"I'm sorry, what's _The Hole?_" Yang asked, "I don't know… geography of the Grimmlands so much, cause… you know. Distant and secretive land hostile to all of Remnant."

A weak attempt at a joke, not particularly funny, but Yang didn't miss that Blake was doing anything but laughing. It was like the room grew colder, like Blake wasn't really _here _anymore. Like she was pulled back to the Grimmlands and taking Yang with her.

"When Jaune… when we were in trouble… Jaune was punished."

Yang didn't miss how Blake _flinched _to say those words.

She didn't really want to know more, but she'd realized that she _had _to. It sounded like something _really bad _was going on here, so she nodded at Blake to continue. She'd found the source of the knot, and now she _had_ to engage it.

"When we… asked for things, from Mother, or when one of us m-misbehaved, Jaune got sent to The Hole, until… until Mother thought he'd been in there long enough… but then," she cracked a weak smile, "We usually got what we asked for, l-like food and beds and clothes-"

"I'm sorry," Yang didn't want to interrupt, but she had to, "You didn't have food?"

She shook her head. "Not before Jaune won it for us," she said, then smiled wistfully, "He must have, over the years, spent _months _in The Hole to get us the food we eat today."

"What..." swallowing nervously, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer, Yang continued, "What _was _The Hole?"

Blake's suddenly shot to the floor. "We weren't… we weren't supposed to know."

_But you did, _Yang thought, seeing the way her body started to tremble.

"Emerald once… once went to see him, to try and… bring him some food. She s-said it was an old well with a sealed lid on top, p-pitch black inside, and v-very scary. Jaune still c-can't handle the dark now..."

Yang stared at her in undisguised horror. She had thought what she was dealing with was a complicated love triangle amongst kidnapped children, raised in a stressful situation. But she'd never thought… why would Salem take these children from Remnant and do _that _to them, why would she do _any _of this?

"That wasn't… that wasn't _punishment!_ Blake, that's… that's _torture!_ Actual torture! You say he spent up _weeks _in- That didn't- that- oh _gods…"_

She wanted to vomit.

Blake shook her head. "No… no, it's… Mother wouldn't… it's when we misbehave. It's because he's the Prince. Because we're her children. It's how we've always done things."

Blake just looked confused, stammering out statements that were clearly not her own words. It was like she wasn't _understanding _what the deal was, because _of course _she didn't realize what the deal was! If it was how they'd _always _done things, then it wasn't abnormal! It was just one more mark of being raised in the Grimmlands!

For- For _fifteen years, _these children have been held by a _monster _who- and why only _Jaune? _What was this sick _freak's _game? Did she even have a goal, or was it like trying to puzzle out the motives of any other Grimm?

This was… she had been wrong. She had been so wrong. Yang had thought that the kids just needed _normalcy, _that if they got a space to open up, they could feel normal and integrate, but she had… everything she had learned from Pyrrha was cast in a new light. All the words of being "The Eagle" and her brother's _sword _now had their proper context… Everything she'd learned about Pyrrha, her relationship to her _Prince._ Their powers, the way they held themselves so antagonistically to the rest of Beacon. They weren't the product of being raised in isolation.

They were the products of being raised as child soldiers.

Brutal discipline. Routine abuse. Indoctrinated into loyalty.

She… she wasn't _able _to fix this. She was so far out of her depth that she was _drowning, _before she even realized it, but with her arms wrapped tightly around Blake, Yang _knew _she couldn't leave them behind. As scary as this all was, as absolutely beyond her ability as this was, Yang knew she had to be there for her. The least she could do. But they needed more than that. More than Yang could give.

She needed to get help.

**And here we are at the end of another Act. Act 3 wraps with sort of the culmination of Yang's arc started in Act 2. She's realized the limits of her ability and that she's dealing with something much, much bigger than she can handle, and Act 4 looks to see if anyone _can _handle that, looking closer at the psychological state of the claimed, with Atlas and the Belladonna-Schnee conspiracy looming over them all. **

**But while Act 4 engages in some of that heavier emotional stuff, there's still opportunities for levity. Romance still goes on, Roman and Neo encounter A Bad Idea, and Pyrrha flexes her might. I'm looking forward to posting it!**

**And thanks to Renarde and Danish for feedback!**


	19. A Mother's Love

He is standing before a throne, trembling, though he doesn't know why.

Mother is seated before him, looking as stiff and stern as a statue, and he _knows _he has done something wrong, though, despite his best efforts, he simply cannot _remember _what it was. Had he demanded something? No, he had already been punished for that. Had his sisters done… no, he shakes his head, it couldn't be that. But he knows there is _something _he has done wrong and he knows, as his legs grow weak and his stomach _roils, _that the consequences are coming to him. And he cannot escape.

"You are afraid."

Her voice slices through him like a razor. He feels like he has been _slit _open, the parts of his body no longer connected, his weakness exposed. his belly opened up to the merciless air.

"N-no, Mother," he stammers. In spite of his fear, he knows that he does not leave a question unanswered. And that he does not admit the fear he cannot hide from his face.

_Be strong, _he thinks to himself, _Be strong like Pyrrha is strong. Like Emerald is strong. Like Blake is strong. Like Weiss is strong. Like they're counting on you to be strong._

"A _Prince _should not show such fear..."

Is this his failure? He can't deny he feels _relief _to hear it. Better to _know _what he's about to be punished for than to leave it hanging above him.

"But I did not call you to me for that." He freezes. Terror snatches away his thoughts as his eyes get wide and the Darkness _screams _at his frozen legs to run as far as he can. "I called you here… to praise you."

An explosion inside him. Hope and curdled fear, warring as every sparking thought was on maintaining composure. The _unfairness _of it all, that he, alone, is here to endure this… is silenced as he remembers that his suffering now is _sparing _his sisters from this.

Unmoved by his clear terror, Mother continues. "You are my Heir, my chosen _Prince… _and my son."

Composure fails him. He _gasps, _far too much of his own desire boiling forth for him to maintain his strength as he hears the words he has longed for for so very, very long. He blinks in disbelief, knowing that it's only the first sign of danger, but he wants to hear it too badly to caution himself.

"Yes. You are my _son. _My dear, sweet son. Come," she says, a smile crossing her face, "sit on Mother's lap."

Terrified that it might be a trap, but unable to resist the _pull _of his deep and hopeless desire, he steps forward. Hesitant at first, but as she gestures to him, he scrambles forward, crawling up on the throne and seating himself on her lap and, for the first time in the meeting, he realizes he is crying as Mother holds him and makes him feel like he _is _her son, these few scraps of maternal love he clings to with a desperate, delusional need.

"Do you want me to stroke your hair? To kiss your forehead, to call you my son and tell you that I love you?"

He moans at the thought, as though the gesture alone would be enough to banish his fears and free him from his nightmares. "Yes..." he replies, tears flowing down his eyes. "Yes," he says again, desperately. He wants it more than anything in the world.

"What a good son you are," she says as her hand gently strokes him, causing him to _sob _with years of repressed fear. "What a good and dutiful son… but Mother has a task for you."

"Wh-what is it?" he asks, fearful for what it might be but, again, unable to keep the hope from his voice, his eyes.

She whispers something, something in a language he doesn't recognize. He feels a _crackle _on his skin. It doesn't feel good. He knows it, though. Magic.

"You will be tested… but you will become _powerful," _she whispers in his ear, "Powerful enough to _truly_ be my heir. You will be changed, but… you will become more like Mother. And you want that, don't you?"

He gazes upward. He sees her eyes. So red, so cruel and pitiless, sunk deep in a dark, black pits set against an unnaturally white face. She's so scary, so frightening that Jaune can't feel anything but _fear _looking back at him, but he _wants _to have a mother so badly, to be a good son, to hear her say what she promised she would say…

"I do," he croaks, "I- I want to be like you, Mother."

* * *

"I don't doubt Ironwood will hand over any documentation we've given to him, but we have to maintain face on this—and that means briefing her on the Valean perspective, so we're probably going to want to prepare an onboard report for her."

Summer could hear Qrow's dismay at the additional work, but it didn't give her pause. She'd felt dismay enough already, after all, and this early in the morning, she didn't exactly feel inclined to sympathy.

Atlas recalling General Ironwood was the two worst things Summer could imagine, right when things were starting to go so well: it meant that Atlas was planning something, and, worse, that Atlas saw the need to misdirect her.

"Due to the exceptional caution present in Vale and the remarkable success of the return of the claimed to Remnant's society, it has been decided by the Council of Atlas that my presence is no longer needed here," he'd told her.

Yeah fucking right.

Discussions with Ozpin and the Council meant paying attention to troop movements, whether or not Atlas was moving to war readiness, with Atlesian battleships already hanging in the sky above them… _who _were they readying against was the question Summer had. Salem? The claimed? The whole goddamn world as part of some _insane _crusade to unite all of humanity and Faunus kind? Ozpin trusted the General, but right now… hah, all Summer had left was faith now, faith in Ozpin, faith in her colleagues, faith in Yang and the Grimm kids. And even if that faith was wavering, she had to cling to it.

But it meant another bad situation—Winter Schnee, fresh off of her brief medical leave following the situation with Parents Night, was now taking his place. And that summarized exactly why Specialist Schnee _was not _a good fit for this, what with her own _sister _having attacked her. Yet another minefield, yet another delicate political situation that Summer was _woefully _out of her depth to handle, and yet, handle it she must.

That was even _before _she factored in the historic rivalry of _Summer and Winter, _and she could already hear Taiyang's puns in her head. But their relationship had always been frosty at best- _GODS DAMMIT ALL!_

But… she still had some assets on her side.

"Qrow," she asked, "what've you heard from Clover on this, is there… anything?"

His eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance, but he knew as well as she did that they couldn't afford to leave things off the table. "Officially, no," Qrow said, all business, "He follows orders and sticks to the party line—he's one of Jimmy's men, through and through."

"You know I was asking _unofficially._"

Qrow rolled his eyes. "Before you ask—no, we ain't dating, Sum. But, yeah, we talked about this last night..."

"You were out last night?"

A mean question. She shouldn't have asked it, especially when it was so critical that Summer have not only good information on the situation, but that she keep Qrow in a good mood. Still… she could never resist an opportunity to make her old partner blush like a schoolgirl. And she needed _some _levity, with all that was going on. Some movement to pretend that things were still like they used to be.

"...we spent the night in, in my quarters." He shot her a withering glare, "So shut the hell up about it and I'll tell you what he told me. Simply put… he don't like it either. Winter's not showing it—no surprise there—but she took the attack _hard. _And word is, she and her father's whole 'falling out' was more in the papers than reality. And if _that's _the case, it means that there's one Schnee agitating the Council in Atlas and _another _Schnee now in charge of all those gunships in the sky."

Summer paled. "You can't mean…"

"Clover don't think it's such a conspiracy," Qrow quickly added, "Just that… tensions are gonna go up. More of a 'grieving family keeping the hurt deep' sort of thing. He's seen everything we've seen, and the kids're doing great here, really opening up and all that, making friends, seeming almost normal half the time—but Winter's presence is definitely gonna ramp up the scrutiny and..."

"We just have to get through this..." Summer sighed, "Once the Vytal starts, there will, and I can't believe I'm saying this, there will actually be bigger issues that _we _don't have to deal with."

Qrow chuckled, though without any humor. Hard to believe that they were _praying _to get to the Vytal Festival as fast as they could, to get this all _over _with, but… here they were.

Suddenly, the door burst open, Summer's eyes shooting to the disturbance, her hand shooting to Damask, ready for whatever got past Amber at the door.

But it was Yang.

And she looked _terrible._

Here eyes had dark rings under them, signs of a sleepless night, and there was a grim, resolute presence to her, a look that told Summer that, whatever her daughter was about to say, it had shaken her to her very _core._

"Mom," she said, "We have to talk, _now._"

Too stunned to think, but maternal instinct spurred her to speak. "Yang," she asked, "What are you- what happened?"

"We're _wrong, _Mom. We're wrong about everything, I was- I was- _Oh, gods, _I was wrong!" she suddenly wailed in desperate remorse.

"Yang!" Summer took command of the room, "You have to _tell me _what's wrong."

"The Grimm kids!" Yang shouted, "I thought they were just… just _weird, _just isolated, just..."

Her voice trailed off and Summer realized how _pale _Yang was. "What happened..." she asked, terrified to hear the answer but knowing there was no way around it.

"Last night, I... Blake, she was, she was a mess, she just-"

"Breathe kiddo," Qrow said, soothingly, and directing her to take a seat. As Yang sat down, she exhaled, deeply, then looked to Summer plaintively.

Summer gestured for her to continue, her attention focused on her daughter's plight.

"Blake... came to my room. Really late last night, after midnight. And she... talked to me, about some... stuff." She was being evasive, though Summer wasn't sure how much she could risk prying. Things told in confidence couldn't be easily told to adults, and even if Yang was (hard as it was to accept) an adult herself, those old rules died hard. "But when she was telling me about what went... what went wrong, last night, she told me... more about their... their childhoods..."

Yang's voice trailed off, weakly, her eyes pointed at Summer, but what she was looking at was a thousand miles away. Summer wasn't sure what she had heard, but the look on her face and the mention of _childhood _filled Summer with dread. But that dread needed to be pushed aside. "Yang... what did she tell you."

Dull lilac eyes met Summer's, and then her daughter spoke. "Salem tortured them. Routinely."

Silence.

"Oh gods," Qrow moaned, "Oh, _gods!_"

Tears were starting to fall down Yang's cheeks. "They- they weren't _fed, _they were… they weren't _clothed, _and Jaune..." her voice had a haunted ring, like she wasn't even aware she was talking to anyone, "She tortured Jaune. Solitary confinement. No light. For _days. _Regularly."

Summer was aghast to hear it, made all the worse by Yang's obvious horror.

"They need _help, _Mom, they need help! Help _I can't give them!"_

In times of crisis, Summer had learned to trust her reflexes. Having a Semblance that let her move at such blinding speeds meant she relied on instinct to guide her. And motherhood was a lot like combat in this regard. In an instant, she had her daughter wrapped in a tight hug, letting Yang bury her face into Summer's shoulder, feeling a tear shed against her and reassuring her daughter that everything was alright. That everything would _be _alright.

And she said it with conviction enough that even she believed it.

With a pat on the shoulder, she encouraged Yang to continue.

Loosening from the hug, Yang looked up, meeting her mother's gaze. Her lilac eyes had a frightened, shaken look in them, the kind that Summer hadn't seen in those eyes in _years. _But she gathered her courage and continued, "This whole time, we thought of them… like whether they were kids or whether they were monsters, but they're… they're _child soldiers, _Mom! They've been- they've been _indoctrinated _since they were kids and now… I'm _scared, _Mom, I'm scared for them! I don't know what to do and I _need _your help!"

There was nothing in the world that Summer wanted to do more than to comfort her eldest. She could see she wasn't well, that she still needed more mothering, but… she could also see that Yang... wasn't a kid anymore. A grown woman. And what Yang needed more than anything wasn't her mother to tell her everything would be alright. She needed Summer Rose to marshal everything at her disposal to make sure a wrong was _righted._

She activated her radio. "Amber?" she asked, "Could you come in and help out here?"

The Fall Maiden entered quickly, and Summer felt _terrible _that she was delegating this task, something of _supreme importance _to her, but Yang… would understand. "Amber?" she asked, "Qrow and I need to discuss a matter of urgent importance that Yang brought to our attention. Would you mind-"

"I'll- I'll go," Yang said, catching on to what was happening. She was such an amazing young woman, someone Summer was _so grateful _to have in her life, to have seen her grow up to become the brave woman standing before her today. "Just… please, _help _them, they need help so badly, and I… _please._"

But with that, Amber led her out of the room.

Summer wanted to go after her, to wrap her daughter in her arms and promise that she would make everything better, like she did after so many scraped knees and bee stings. Like she had the night Ruby and Yang had been attacked by that Beowulf, _promising _her dear little girl that she would _always _be her daughter and _nothing _could ever change that…

But Yang needed her to come up with something that would help the claimed. Needed to address the horrifying reality of what their lives were, _without _sparking an international incident.

Qrow looked to Summer. "I… don't think we can tell Winter about this."

"We don't have a choice," she sighed. "She's coordinating Atlesian-"

"Let me tell Clover, loop him in and-"

"I'm not starting a _conspiracy, _Qrow! Not when this is so sensitive! Atlas finds out we're keeping secrets and it blows up in our-"

"Tell Winter Schnee that her little sister was so unstable when she met her because Salem _tortured _her and we _will_ have a war on our hands!"

Except... keep her out of the loop on that same question and they might have a wholly different war on their hands. It was lose-lose in the best case scenario, and Summer cursed Salem, suspecting that this was part of her master plan, a strategy to sow dismay and grief across the Kingdoms. The sight of her daughter's grief and dismay had already kindled Summer's maternal instincts, and they were ignited into full wrath as she thought about that chilld-stealing demon bitch that had treated children, innocent gods-damned _children, _with such cruelty. Every aspect they noted about the claimed, about their odd behaviors, about them _stealing food... _it painted a picture that moved Summer to a furious anger.

But anger... Summer had learned, right here at Beacon, that while anger was important and it was important to feel it, there came times for a cooler head to prevail.

"...We'll reconvene the Committee for an emergency session to brief them on what we've learned, but until then-"

"That'll take ages! Summer, if Yang found out, it's only a matter of time before the information goes live-"

"And if that's the case, I want to make _damn sure _we get caught doing everything by the book!"

Qrow took a seat, leaning heavily into his chair. He looked to Summer, a tired, haggard expression on his face. "This is a GOLD matter, Sum. And you're under the Committee, but I'm..."

"Under Vale," Summer finished for him.

This was a matter of loyalties and obligations. Summer trusted Qrow with more than even her life. They'd worked together closely for years, but… he was Ozpin's man, through and through. Summer was loyal to Ozpin as well, but her authority here stemmed from the Committee, defunct as it was, and her loyalty was to all of Remnant. But she also had a duty and loyalty to Vale's Council, particularly to Task Force: RENEGADE GOLD, created to coordinate Vale's response to Salem. Vale demanded that she prioritize Vale's interests here. The Committee demanded that she prioritize the future of all Remnant.

Qrow had made up his mind. He was asking if she'd made up hers.

He folded his hands in front of him and sighed. "It's lose-lose, Sum, and… and it's not just about Vale and Atlas and all the rest of the world, not anymore."

Summer nodded, unable to deny that she was feeling the same thing her closest friend was. "I'm worried about the kids, too," she admitted in a hoarse voice.

"So..." he gave her a look that appeared as exhausted as she felt, "What's the call, boss?"

Moment of truth.

Loyalty to her Kingdom or to her ideals. Follow her official chain of command or put her faith in the one man she still trusted in the ugly world of geopolitics. The fate of five children caught in the machinations of a monster. The fate of a world on the brink of apocalypse.

The fate of her daughters.

Looking up to Qrow, she let out a long sigh.

"Call Ozpin. And Glynda. Whatever we're about to do… I want to be able to say we helped the kids."

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter! And we've just broke 500 followers! That's incredible, and I am, as always, very touched by every review, follow, and fave.  
**

**But welcome to Act 4—things are bad, but people are now going to try to fix them. Place your bets on how you see that all going. If Acts 2-3 were driven by Jaune being tested by the Maiden (Yang in our Triple Goddess imagery), Act 4 is marked by the claimed being tested by the Mother. There's experience and nurturing love here, but also caution, and a commitment to protecting the young. Sometimes, a mother's love, even genuine and true, can be a dangerous thing to everyone involved. **

**Also: Summer's weapons are Damask and Gallica, a rapier and main-gauche pair named for breeds of roses! Believe me, you'll get to see Summer fight at a future point in this series, and I'm doing what I can to make sure she lives up to the hype.  
**


	20. What Passes For Therapy

"You should… probably be speaking to a real therapist…"

The girl _snorted _as she rolled her eyes. Qrow sighed, he knew that this was a situation without a winning move, probably without a not-terrible move, but the people who had clearance to actually have this conversation was himself, Summer, Amber, Oz, and Glynda, and, basically, it came down to him and Amber deciding which of them should be talking to Belladon- to _Blake_ and which one to Emerald. And Amber had a point—Qrow had been Emerald's guidance on the whole coming out issue, it might be better if she had a different person to chat with for the whole "your mom's an evil and abusive witch" talk.

Or, well, the "you can trust me enough to have a chat so that one day we can talk about your mom being an evil, abusive witch" talk.

So that's why he was the one speaking to the world's only Grimm-Faunus hybrid, her kitty ears bristling and every inch of her unnaturally chalk-white body radiating a tension that Qrow could not blame her for. Yang had told them that it was a conversation with Blake that made her realize that the situation with the claimed was, to use a technical term, "wholly fucked up," but she wouldn't betray the girl's trust to tell them what she'd been told in confidence any more than the broadest outlines. She was a good woman, his niece, but at the same time... it left him flying blind.

"So I figure… I shouldn't even try, really." That got her eyes to perk up a little, more the curiosity of what "trick" he'd be pulling than honest surprise, but at least she was listening. "I'm no therapist, hell, I've worn out a few of them _myself, _so I was figuring… you're the intel specialist for your family, I'm an intel specialist for Vale… How bout we just talk shop for a while, then we can see if we can get you to talk to somebody better'n me?"

She stared at him incredulously.

"I mean," he laughed, "I'm really just qualified to do one thing, so-"

"You're not _lying?"_

He wasn't sure if that was a question or a statement, but she certainly sounded surprised to say it. From the way she was furiously examining every inch of his face, making Qrow feel like a bug on a microscope, it seemed like the girl had some kind of supernatural lie-detector powers, too, which… well, it wasn't like his plan could get that much _worse, _really.

"...no?" he answered with a shrug.

"You honestly… you honestly have _no plan _to get me to open up? To try and… you're an _intelligence operative!"_

"Yeah," he nodded, "But I spy by overhearing things. In bars, mostly. Oz don't exactly send me to do the whole dinner parties or pillowtalk routine, cause… it'd probably end disastrously."

Blake was now scanning his face with an intensity that started to make his skin itch. "You… you're hiding something!" she declared.

But Qrow just gave her an impish smile. "If I _am, _then you should be able to detect it."

She scowled. "You're trying to get a rise out of me."

"Is it working?"

"You're infuriating."

He laughed, but evidently, it was a gentler laugh than Blake had expected, and she softened a little to hear it. "Yeah, join the club. Summer'll be able to tell you _all _about my charming personality quirks. But… it'll look bad for the both of us if we wrap this up before an hour's passed, so… those Vacuan Separatists ain't a Valean plot, we've-"

"What!" she cried, a sudden breach in her composure, "You can't be serious! The munitions found at the Colorado Safehouse were _clearly _of Valean make!"

Qrow shook his head. "You'd think that, but… what if I told you that they were _delivered _by Mistralian agents? Happen to know _exactly _the operative who they picked out to oversee it?"

She leaned forward, eager to hear more. Mostly to pick it apart and explain how _she _was right, but in the long run... hook, line, and sinker. Qrow talked about himself as an intelligence agent, but really, that was just a manlier term for what he _really _was: a gossip hound. And juicy gossip like this was the sort of thing spies _loved. _Made them feel like they were on the inside.

"Vale's intelligence community's pretty big, and I'm Ozpin's guy, not the Council's, so I can't say for _sure _what the plans are with the borderlands, but I did happen to see my _sister _around in Vale back before that shit hit the fan. Now, I don't see my sister _often, _but believe me, she knows Vale from our time here at Beacon and she's the one who people get when they need an operation to be _untraceable."_

"Your sister… Raven Branwen?" she asked, though more to show that she already knew than to ask a real question.

He nodded. "Yep. Former leader of the Branwen Clan before _your _side lightened up the pressure with the Grimm and know the noble traditions of the Mistralian bandit clans had to contend with a whole bunch of Huntsmen with a lot more free time on their hands… end of an era, really."

"You don't sound too broken up about it," she noted, astutely.

"Eh, not all family is family, if you know what I mean," his words causing the unnaturally pale girl's eyes to dart away, "And the Branwens… they weren't family in the way my team's my family. Though that ain't the first time I've said that to one of you claimed kids… though, on that, you mind if I ask you a question?"

The girl tensed, shooting back to her earlier, wary state. Qrow had to go easy here: vulnerability doesn't come easy to her, and a request to open up was tantamount to a threat.

"Nothing… nothing top secret. Just wanted to ask… your sister, Emerald..."

Her eyes shot back to him, a quiet intensity in them that was forceful enough to make even Qrow reel a bit. She was as protective of her family as Qrow was of his, but that meant he knew they had something they both found important, some common ground here.

"Last thing she told me before all this came down was… she was finally telling you guys about..."

"That she's gay?" Blake responded, eyebrow cocked.

"Yeah, that," Qrow nodded. "I gotta know… she's okay, right? This isn't-"

Blake cut him off with a shake of her head. "No, Jaune didn't… Emerald's fine. She's, _ha," _she gave a rueful laugh, "She's probably the only one of us that's doing well right now."

Qrow sighed. He really wanted to speak with Emerald, to ask her how it went, to make sure she was doing alright, but he had a duty to the kid in front of him right now.

Duty.

What a word. What a _hell _of a word. He had been born into duty, the son of the Chief of the Branwen Tribe. A duty to his family, a duty to his people, a duty to strength itself. But at Beacon, Qrow had learned of more duties. Different duties. To Summer and STRQ. To Oz and Vale. To himself. And it had been a _painful _choice, even as sure as he was he was making the right one, to choose one duty over another. Looking at Blake, he saw a girl not so different from a younger him—caught between loyalties and trying to figure herself out.

But Qrow felt an internal sigh as he thought that. He kept it internal, and even as sharp-eyed as Blake was—he suspected there was a good reason she was called "the Hawk"—now that Qrow was talking to her about her sister, Blake was more focused on what was clearly a favorite subject. She was relating an anecdote about a younger Emerald spouting off Shrike facts with a wistful, nostalgic expression, but the kind that emphasized a point Qrow didn't like to think about.

They couldn't help these kids.

Not that they were beyond help, Qrow had seen with Emerald that they really were _normal _kids, hopeful and strong, but even normal kids in a situation like this needed professionals. They needed someone with a background to help this, not whatever adults had clearance and discretion enough to handle the matter without sparking an international incident. They would need time, more than just the duration of their visit to the Vytal Festival before they were sent back to the Grimmlands. And while and surprisingly tired-looking Cinder Fall hadn't put up any of their expected objections, Qrow knew not to take that optimistically. Even if Fall _did_ care for the kids, she wasn't the one calling the shots.

But Qrow knew that, even if they couldn't help, they could still be there for them. And that first step would be getting them to realize that they had a place where they could talk and be heard and, unlike whatever experience they'd had growing up in the Grimmlands, they'd be treated like _people._ And hearing Blake start to share a story about her and Emerald, endlessly competing between each other on anything they could... sort of like him and Raven, when they were little... Qrow hoped they were finding their way there. It'd be a long road, probably a dangerous one, but… well, no matter what, it's what they owed these kids.

So he laughed along as Blake continued talking about her siblings, looking nothing at all like the standoffish, defensive girl he'd seen when she'd first came in.

* * *

This was… a lot.

For the second time, Jaune found himself in Ozpin's office. On his first visit, he'd marveled at the view and imagined the Jaune of another world, a Huntsman-in-training, standing here to be awarded or disciplined or anything other than as a meeting between two sides in an intractable war. And this time… this time Jaune just felt that he was so meagre and small that he didn't belong here. He was tired. Exhausted. Did not _remotely _have the time or energy for what should be _the whole reason he was supposed to be here. _A one-on-one off the books meeting with Headmaster Ozpin, and… Jaune just didn't really care. He'd woken up to Pyrrha and Blake in his arms, two women so _incredibly _dear to him, and yet… he knew Blake had left in the night.

Her emotions had thrown her off her game, or perhaps she _wanted _him to know, but Jaune hadn't been quite asleep as she quietly slipped out from his arms and left, going out into the darkness, going… somewhere she wasn't telling him.

Because she needed something he couldn't give her.

He just... he _couldn't._

Pyrrha and Blake… had he really not seen it? Or had he just _made _himself not see it? Did he just not want to acknowledge that there was anything more complicated in them then what they had as children? Was it easier to think of the feelings they had for each other being simple, childlike affection?

Or was he just a coward? He just didn't want to acknowledge the reality that they were growing up, all of them, and that things were changing, inevitably. And now, in spite of how much he'd attempted to hold time back, he was older, drawn into things that came with adulthood. Things he had no ability to handle.

He had been frozen by fear when Blake approached him with her offer, when they stripped naked, when they _kissed him._

He couldn't deny it. The _desire, _the realization that, yes, he had thought about the beautiful, adoring girls in his life and wanted… more. More of them, more from them, but when he looked upon them, his desire was mingled with… with an absolute and unstoppable _fear. _Something within him _broke _at the feeling. Something terrified of what it meant to realize that his sisters, his most dear touchstone in the world, weren't children anymore. That they had _changed, _and there was no way to go back.

But even deeper inside him, something from the depths of his soul, something in the Light Inside that struggled against the Darkness said _no. _His wants, his desires… it had something of _Mother _wrapped up in it, and it filled Jaune with _despair _that he might be becoming something like _her._

He thought of the stuffed rabbit Mrs. Arc had handed him, thought of it like it was an anchor, some tie to his past, and how it seemed to be drifting away from him, inescapably, as he tried so desperately to hold onto something.

Ozpin took a seat on a couch—had the office been redecorated since Jaune had last been here?—and gestured to Jaune to help himself to the samovar of coffee available. Jaune just shook his head _no._

With nothing else to do, the Headmaster sighed and gave Jaune a look of hopeless sympathy, a mirror of what Jaune was feeling inside.

"I think the fact that Ms. Fall conceded to these meetings, between you, your siblings, and other members of my staff, speaks to the sad truth that we all acknowledge that… that something must be done."

Jaune almost had to laugh, a fierce, barking noise that sparked in his gut and struggled to claw its way out of him. Yes, _something_ must be done, they all could agree that _none _of them were healthy or able to handle the intense stress of their situation, but what that _something _was supposed to be was as great a mystery to Jaune as it was to everyone else.

But what was left to be said?

But it seemed the Headmaster was going to find out. "You know… I told you in our last meeting that I've known Queen Salem for a very long time… but I don't think I've told you _how _long. I can't imagine she's told you much about me?"

Jaune, again, shook his head _no. _"All I know is," he swallowed, nervously, focusing himself back to the matter at hand, "that you and her are… enemies."

The Headmaster ruefully shook his head. "Yes, I'm afraid that's true. Since the days of Ozma, there's always been someone in my position, moving against the Queen of the Grimm. It's a long lineage, with perfect continuity stretching back to the original Ozma. Salem has done much to stop us, but she has always failed, for a simple reason."

Peering at him through his small spectacles, Ozpin paused before continuing. "It's because I _am _Ozma."

That… had not been something Jaune had expected to hear. He gaped at the Headmaster, not sure if this was a metaphor or if he, too, was an immortal being. Jaune felt that Mother would have told him if her most legendary foe still lived, but the way the Headmaster was saying it… it sounded quite literal.

Ozpin nodded, seeing the shock on Jaune's face. "Salem and I… we were cursed together. She was given the immortality she holds now, an endless attachment to the world of the living. I was given an immortality of a sort as well—one that finds me constantly reborn into this world every time I am taken from it. I have seen the world of Remnant change and evolve for as long as she has, though I've seen it from a closer, more personal perspective. But more importantly, it means… I've known Salem in a way no one else has. Not just in terms of longevity, but… well, she was once my wife."

Jaune couldn't help but _gasp _at that revelation. He knew that immortality was a thing in this world, and it made sense that if there was one immortal, there might be another. But to know that Mother… Mother had a _husband _once seemed unbelievable. That her greatest enemy was… well, it made the whole thing, the grand conflict between the Grimm and the world of Remnant feel so… so _trivial!_

But it also raised _another _question, one that was evidently written clearly on Jaune's face.

"No," Ozpin shook his head, "you are not the first children she has raised. Our… daughters were our pride and joy. We…" and then his face darkened in a way Jaune had never expected to see with the quirky Headmaster, "Losing them was, and still is, the greatest pain I have ever felt and… and it set into motion this conflict that has spanned untold generations and you, sadly, now find yourself caught in, alongside your siblings."

"Why..." Jaune choked out as sought his words, "Why are you telling me this? Ozma was… I mean, you _are _Mother's greatest enemy. And I am..."

"My enemy as well?"

Jaune couldn't answer that question, only looking away in discomfort. To say it so bluntly… Mother always told him that, as Royalty, he merely needed to maintain a stern distance from everything else beneath him. Jaune, who always wanted to be with his sisters, in their tasks and in their skills, _hated _that advice more than anything. But right now, what he wouldn't give for the power to stare down the Headmaster with noble disdain.

Ozpin, or… Ozma, Jaune supposed, just leaned back in his chair. "I had a conversation recently, with James Ironwood of Atlas—you met him your first night here, and I suspect you remember him."

Jaune remembered the intensity, the presence of the military commander seeming to fill the entire room as he was introduced to Jaune. His handshake grip being as intense as Jaune's own, Grimm-infused strength.

But Jaune mostly remembered how worried he was for Weiss when she met the Atlesian general, that she might become frightened by him or the way he represented her homeland. And the pride he felt as she curtsied and introduced herself graciously… now mired in the guilt that came with knowing that "Nice Weiss" was a hated fiction for his sister, tied to the guilt he now had, his utter obliviousness to his sisters' true feelings, the loves and the pains they hid from him.

"You seem to have some dark thoughts troubling you," Ozpin noted, interrupting Jaune's reverie, "Though I cannot blame you. I think we are all caught in something similar right now."

"Why are you _telling _me all this?" he asked again.

It was critical information, a grand secret behind the _entire world, _something _Blake _didn't even know… but Mother did. And Mother had hid it from him. Was that the Headmaster's gambit? Was he trying to divide them?

Ozpin looked at him sadly. "Because you need to know the truth. Because, as tragic as your situation is, you _are _the Prince of the Grimm. And that means we are geopolitical peers. As I am on the Council of Vale and Headmaster to Beacon, you have a position of authority in the Grimmlands. You are an agent of your own fate, and you are entitled to know the truth."

Jaune looked down, sullenly. Once again, it felt like he was caught in a current of time, where the simple truths of his childhood, the duty to protect his sisters, the challenge of enduring Mother's anger, no longer were enough for him. He was the Prince of the Grimm. His life was measured in terms of a global war as surely as it was the fact that his two closest advisors were… in love with him. And Weiss and Emerald, the one's he wanted most dearly to cherish and protect, held secret fears they couldn't let him know. Because they feared even more how he'd react to them.

He felt wretched. He needed to be more mature, less childish, but right now, he was being torn apart by them both. In his private life, he had left his sisters utterly _ruined _because he _couldn't _find a way to reciprocate their feelings or be a good brother, but in his public life, he was discovering that he had a duty to oppose the man he was speaking to… that Ozpin was his greatest enemy.

"I can tell that… this is an unfair, an unjust situation we are putting you in," the Headmaster continued, knowingly, "But… I am revealing my greatest secret to you, in truth, because of what I told James, before he returned to Atlas. When speaking to him, I... thought about _you. _About your recent interview and how you have comported yourself on this visit, and… I told him, as someone who knows the Queen better than anyone else in this world, I am quite amazed that my Salem could raise a child as noble and dignified and kind-hearted as you."

An echo in Jaune's mind, Cinder's voice, from his first night at Beacon, her asking him in amazement how Mother could have ever raised... someone like him.

"You returned my sword to me, perhaps not knowing its _exact _value, but because you were searching for something to show your sincerity. You and your siblings have, as I am sure you are aware, been under the greatest scrutiny, but everywhere I look, I see genuine kindness and compassion. You are here because you want peace and you want peace because you care for people."

Jaune didn't know how to respond to that, didn't know what that might look like. Compliments were… not something he was used to. But he couldn't just spend this whole meeting in dull silence. "It really… It _sucks, _though."

Ozpin's facade cracked with a slight smirk at Jaune's crudeness. "Yes, it does, doesn't it? And it may feel like weakness, Jaune, but… it is strength. The strength to show kindness and grace in a world that encourages and expects cruelty and suspicion. You have an incredible strength within you and you show that strength before me right now."

Standing up from his chair, he beckoned Jaune to follow him to the window, looking out over the Emerald Forest. All around them, gears were turning, the machinery of an enormous clock endlessly _tick, tick, ticking _away as the two of them stood together, side by side, gazing out into the far unknown.

Ozpin continued speaking. "You have endured more in these past fifteen years than most ever see in their entire lives, with less support and security than anyone else in the world. You are more than what your mother expects of you, and you have proven it over and over again. I want you to know… I'm proud of you, Jaune."

Jaune's breath caught, his throat choked to hear the Headmaster say it.

"All of Remnant is proud of you, and our Kingdoms are united in support of you five. Your strength may not yet be known to all, but… I believe in you, Jaune. I believe in all of you. And if you can extend that same faith to us… I do believe you might be able to achieve the peace you seek. And I will do everything in my power to help you accomplish that."

Turning to look Jaune in the eye, Ozpin nodded. "I don't know what form that help might take, but whatever you need… we are here for you. You and your sisters. It might take time before all of Remnant comes to trust you, but… I have known Remnant longer than anyone else alive, and her people… they'll do the right thing. I know they will."

Jaune couldn't hold his gaze any longer, looking out over the great expanse of green that stretched out before them. It was… peaceful out there. So peaceful. So distant. It felt like the two of them were a hundred miles away from the rest of the world, from the churning turmoil down below, from Mother's dread reach. And that made Jaune think of something.

"Mother…" he quietly said, screwing up his courage to admit something that reigned in his mind but was never spoken, "There was a time when I was sick, after… after I took to the Darkness, and I… I was having nightmares and," he swallowed nervously, "and one night, I… I went to Mother, and she… let me sit on her lap. And she sang me a lullaby, and..."

It took a moment for the Headmaster to respond. "Did it," he asked, his voice choked with emotion, "Did it go like this?" and he hummed a few bars that triggered an incredible sense of _remembering _in Jaune.

"Yeah," he answered, hoarsely.

"She used to sing that same lullaby to our daughters."

They stared out into the unknown together. Jaune didn't know what the Headmaster, what the legendary _Ozma,_ was thinking right now, but he knew that, for once in his life, he was speaking to someone who actually knew Mother. Who understood her. And yet… he was someone Jaune knew he could not trust.

He still felt like he was in two worlds, the world of geopolitical conflict and the world of his own family, and both worlds still seemed poised to tip in on the other. So much was still unsettled with Blake and Pyrrha, so much still was unsettled with Mother and the Headmaster, but… but he felt more able to handle it. Not because of the Headmaster's promise, even Jaune could tell that it would take a very long time before Remnant could trust a creature of the Grimm like himself, but because… because he'd never heard an adult say they were proud of him before.

And it meant the world to Jaune.

* * *

Weiss didn't like this "Miss Goodwitch."

She didn't have funny stories like Professor Port. She wasn't nice and didn't bring her cookies or take her to frogs like Ruby. And she was very scared, which Weiss didn't like at _all. _Everyone was scared, and Weiss didn't like it.

And… she reminded Weiss a lot of the Pretty Lady. And Weiss really didn't like that.

So when she asked to talk, Weiss said no and pushed her out of the room so she could go back to her coloring books. And nobody bothered her for a while after that.

But then Ms. Fall knocked on the door and asked if she could come in. And Weiss knew she was probably going to get in trouble for pushing Miss Goodwitch, so she said yes and then Ms. Fall came in.

Weiss could taste the anxiety radiating off Ms. Fall. Anxiety, fear… and guilt. A lot of guilt. Ms. Fall was guilty a lot, and it had been getting worse recently. Weiss worried for everyone in her life, but she didn't know how to worry for Ms. Fall.

She wanted to go find Ruby, to go back to the frog pond, to just _pretend _that everything was okay, that the day would never end… but she couldn't leave. Not while her family was hurting. Weiss didn't know _what _she could do for Jaune and Pyrrha and Emerald and Blake, but she wanted to do _something. _She wished she could just find a really big frog and it would make everyone happy, that it would make everything better.

But she wasn't sure there _was _a frog big enough for this.

She kicked her feet idly in her seat. She wished Ruby was here. Or Jaune. Or… anyone. She just felt sad, and didn't know how to make it better.

"Weiss?" Ms. Fall asked, "Are you… alright?"

"Mmmf," she mumbled in response, looking back on her coloring book. She didn't want to talk right now, and she especially didn't want to talk about how she felt. Everybody else was sad and Weiss wanted to cheer them all up, but she didn't know _how._ She was focusing on coloring in a picture of a dragonfly when she felt the bed creak as Ms. Fall took a seat next to her.

Weiss kept coloring, but now that someone was next to her, she felt like there was a question in her throat, and she couldn't keep it down. Even though she didn't want to ask it at all, she _had _to.

"Ms. Fall?" she asked, nervously, "Is… are they gonna be okay? I'm… I'm scared."

Ms. Fall hesitated, then rested a gentle hand on Weiss's shoulder. It wasn't much, but this contact was everything to Weiss right now, who started to sniffle. She… she had to be brave. Had to stay strong. Cause everyone had a lot on their plate right now, and the only thing Weiss knew she could do was to not be a problem for anyone else.

"Your siblings… you're all such strong, such brave kids. I… you'll make it through this, I promise."

But there was something dark inside her. That _guilt,_ that feeling that the she _hated _herself… and that she was lying. That Ms. Fall knew she was lying.

But Jaune… Jaune would want her to be good. To be his brave little sister and do the right thing.

So she wrapped her arms around Ms. Fall's waist and gave her a hug, hearing her gasp in surprise… and then put her arms around Weiss.

And they just held each other, for a while.

It felt nice.

"It's gonna be okay," she said, like Jaune did. Like Ms. Fall did. "I promise."

Ms. Fall sniffled a little with her arms around Weiss and held her, too. And it felt nice. Weiss wished things were more like this. Where they could all be more happy and more okay with each other.

Something… something _pushed _her, inside, and Weiss added, "Sometimes… when I don't wanna do something… I just don't do it. And it works out, sometimes. And if it doesn't… I can tell you where the good hiding places are. So you can use them, too."

Cinder stopped for a minute, like she was about to say something. Then she just hugged Weiss tighter and whispered, "I… thank you, Weiss. Thank you."

They just held each other a little more.

Weiss shifted nervously, suddenly remembering that she might be in trouble already. "Could you…" she asked, timidly, "Could you ask Jaune not to be mad at me for pushing Ms. Goodwitch?"

"I can," Cinder said, quietly. Saying it seemed to cheer her up a bit, which made Weiss feel a little better. "I promise."

**There may not be a big enough frog to help them out :(**

**20 chapters and 100,000 words... kind of a shock that I've written that much and the story's _still _not finished, but it's been a real pleasure writing and posting it!**

**The idea of a lullaby passing down through the generations of Remnant was inspired by OtakuWithHazelEye's really exceptional Ozma and Salem fics, particularly "Warrior's Lullaby." Check it out! And, as always, t****hanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**


	21. Give A Little To Get A Little

"I know you probably wanted to talk to Qrow about this..."

Emerald didn't respond, fidgeting nervously on the couch, eyes darting uncertainly. Amber didn't blame her for it—_obviously _she wanted to talk with the person she already had a bond with, they guy who had walked her through one crisis by suddenly becoming mature and fatherly out of _nowhere. _Amber still thought they should have done this sequentially, instead of simultaneously, but Glynda had recommended that this initial contact was crucial, they needed to have a clear, one-on-one connection that could be followed up by other meetings, but they all had to talk to someone _now._

And so, Amber, who barely _felt _like an adult, ever since she first had these powers thrust upon her, had to take up the role and talk to _someone. _And so she picked Emerald.

A big part of it was that Emerald was the only one of these kids Amber even _began _to know, and she didn't envy Qrow getting stuck with the one who, according to Yang, had a massive breakdown. Let the _adults _in the room handle _that _situation. Amber, though, Amber knew Emerald. Not as well as she'd like, especially for this, but she knew that Emerald was a shy, sweet kid who just needed some nurturing. And Amber could give that.

At least, she hoped she could.

"I just want you to know," she said, hoping to sound sympathetic and open, "I'm here for you, Emerald. I've… ever since you hung out with us, the night after the party, I've felt like… well, I mean," hell, she was losing her track, she had to get to _something _like a point here! "I really do like talking to you. Not just because, you know, it's my job to protect you, and not just because I really want everything to work out for you—which I do!" she quickly added, "But I don't… I don't get to talk to that many people, and it was nice to just have fun. You let us lighten up a lot, and… and that's helped. A lot."

From the look on her face… Amber actually had no idea what to make of it, but it didn't _seem _like she'd already blown it. Still, Emerald wasn't exactly the easiest to read. And… Amber had plenty of time to make things worse.

"Hey," she said, softly, "You know, if all you need is someone to listen to you… I know how important it is to sometimes just… blow off some steam and complain about stuff. That's why I hang out with Qrow so much."

The mention of Qrow brought the hint of a smile to Emerald's face. Amber would never have believed that her gruff handler would be the best equipped to relate to a teenage girl, but she had to hand it to him.

In her head, of course, never out loud.

"Yeah," she laughed, "Qrow and I don't go that far back, but he's a good man when I just need to tell him about everything I hate, and… sometimes, I've got a _lot _that I need to vent."

"Like what?"

A question! Engagement! Score!

"Mud," she answered with an unforced shudder, "I work out in the wilderness and I never knew how much I would come to hate _mud _until I had to start roughing it. I don't know if you've got a lot of experience camping up in the Grimmlands, but… _oh, _do I hate mud. _Gods _I hate mud..."

Emerald smiled a little wider at that, but her eyes were still low as she asked, "But are there ever… ever things that are really hard? Things you hate that... but you… you're not supposed to hate?"

Amber paled. She could tell where this question was heading. "Ah," she said, stalling for time, "Is this about being a-"

"No!" Emerald quickly cut in, alarmed, "It's not about... it's not about me… liking girls. I'm just… I've always just been _there. _In the background. I'm the one who doesn't really matter. I don't advise Jaune and I don't lead armies or confront people, my job is to be invisible and overlooked and… and it's really lonely. And I don't... I _like _who I am and what I do and I'm good at it, but... but I'm not _supposed _to like it, and... it's just not fair." She looked down. "I know that's not something you really know that much about."

Amber paused. There... was an answer to that, if she dared say it.

"No… actually, I think I get it."

Emerald's eyes went wide in surprise, before she corrected herself, shooting Amber a skeptical look.

"Yeah, I'm not… not _quite _like your state, but Emerald…"

There was an easy way to do this. To talk about being an "Intelligence Agent" like Qrow, to talk about the loneliness of being a spy and operative. But that would be a lie. And Amber had come here, had chosen to speak to Emerald, because they had something in common. Something secret, her _greatest _secret, but inescapably true.

"What do you know about the Maidens?"

Suddenly, the girl snapped to sit up straight. "Maidens," she recited, "are the inheritors of the souls of the original four Maidens: Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, one generally operating in each Kingdom. They possess potent elemental magics and often have considerable combat experience, as most Maidens acquire their power by killing the previous holder. Therefore, the ideal tactic against a Maiden is one that prioritizes surprise and does not allow-"

"Ummmm..." Amber interrupted, not sure if she wanted to hear how a teenager had been trained on how to kill her, "I'm a Maiden. The Fall Maiden."

Emerald blinked in surprise. Evidently, she had a similar perspective to the voice in Amber's head that was telling her how _dumb _it was to tell an assassin that she was secretly a high priority target. But Amber felt like she had an angle here, and one that could pay off. So she had to push it.

"For years, I've been… living in the background of reality. I just… I go places, I fix problems, and, if I did my job right, nobody knows I exist or that I ever did anything. Heck," she laughed, bitterly, "it's my job to make sure _nobody _knows about me. Ozpin and Qrow and Summer and Tai make sure that I'm a secret. So… I guess I get the warm fuzzies of knowing I helped people, but it _sucks _that I don't get the praise, you know?"

It seemed like she was _partially _getting through, but Emerald still wasn't sure. "But you're _helping _people, and I… I don't… I don't _know _if I am, not anymore." she admitted, "and I want… Sometimes, I really wish we finally had a war. Cause then I'd be _needed."_

She looked torn up to admit it, but Amber gave a slow, sad nod. "Sometimes, there's a part of me, that... also wishes that there was a war. That I could _stop _being in the background and people could finally _know _that I exist, and that… I could finally be appreciated. I know that's a selfish attitude, but it's _true. _It's something I feel, and pretending that I don't feel what I _do _feel isn't… it's dishonest."

"But… Jaune doesn't want-"

"What do you want?"

Emerald froze. She apparently hadn't been expecting to ask that question.

"I want..." she began slowly, but then the emotion started to crack her façade. "I want to be _useful, _I want… I want Jaune to _love _me and just accept that I'm- that I'm..."

Amber knew to tread lightly here. But it was a chance to push her on this, to get her to find her own answers. "But... Didn't he already do that? When you came out to him?"

"He, he did," Emerald admitted, but she struggled to find her words. "I just- I don't _know _what I want anymore! I don't- I just don't know! I want to be useful and I want to fight, but I can't… I don't want to fight _you. _I can't want to fight you and Qrow and Clover," Emerald lamely bewailed. "I just… I want to be happy, and I want Jaune to be happy with me and I want… _why is this so hard?"_

Laying a hand on Emerald's shoulder, Amber wasn't sure if she'd take it or if the contact would be pushing things too far, but her efforts were rewarded as Emerald sniffled and seemed to relax from the physical contact.

"I don't… I don't know if I have a good answer for you, Emerald," she admitted. "Life is… life is hard. And sometimes, we're stuck in situations we don't want."

"So how do you _do it?"_ Emerald wailed, tears streaming down her face.

Amber didn't have an answer for that. She knew she'd be asked this question, knew it when she asked to speak with Emerald, but she hadn't figured out _how _she could answer it. But she knew what she could do.

Wrapping Emerald in her arms, she held the younger woman close and let her just cry.

"I don't… I don't know," she admitted, "But everything I've been able to do… it's because I've had other people with me. That's… that's what makes all the difference."

She held Emerald, making sure the girl felt that she had some stability, a rock to cling to, but her words echoed in Amber's mind.

_I can't want to fight you and Qrow and Clover._

They hung deep inside Amber's soul, an icy pit that she couldn't shrug off, even as she kept up a strong front for Emerald's sake. Amber didn't want to fight Emerald. Amber didn't _ever_ want to be in a situation where she'd have to fight _any _of these kids, but... well, could she deny it? The only reason the Grimmlands _weren't_ at war with Vale was the fact that Vale wasn't sure they could _win. _Amber and Emerald were... they were enemies, weren't they?

But as much as it might be a fact, might be an immutable truth of the universe that the living and the Grimm were enemies by nature... she couldn't be Emerald's enemy. Not now, not like this. Holding Emerald and telling her everything would be alright, Amber knew she wasn't lying—she believed it. Even if it was doomed or foolish, Amber believed it, and she would cling to that certainty as surely as Emerald clung to her now.

* * *

Three of the claimed were categorized as "highest risk of catastrophic outcome." Summer... didn't like how they were _categorizing _them, but it was true. From what Yang, Qrow, and Amber had been able to report, Emerald and Blake were, while in a bad way, at least openly looking for help. The remaining three's categorization reflected either past incidents (Weiss), geopolitical sensitivity (Jaune), or considerable threat. And that last girl was nervously sitting at the couch across from Summer's right now.

Summer would like to say that she looked nothing more like an ordinary teenage girl, but Pyrrha, despite her clear transformation, never stopped looking like something far removed from her original humanity. A little paler than her birth parents, her hair a little more blood-red, her eyes a more intense green than most. And then there were the bone-white armor plates on her body, visible even beneath the casual shirt and jacket she was wearing, were certainly not something that could be overlooked, but they could be covered.

No, even more than her Grimm features, it was her _posture. _This was a woman who was never far from violence at hand. Perpetually coiled to strike if needed. She wasn't angry, she wasn't violent, but she was always aware that her _being _might be called upon to commit violence, and she was ready for it. And Summer had seen her blow right through her entire security cordon like they were an afterthought.

But… Yang had told her that Pyrrha was a lot more than her appearances. That she was, still, a teenage girl, even if she was one from the Grimmlands. And this was something Summer did have some experience in. _Supermom. _That's what Qrow called her. Started as a teasing nickname from the Branwens for her style of leading Team STRQ, turned into a badge of honor as she stepped in to raise Yang, and then… and then her own, precious little girl.

After how many parent-teacher conferences about Yang getting into fistfights and scrapes at school, after so many mothers had silently judged her or gossiped behind her back that her daughter was _anything _but ladylike… she couldn't neglect Pyrrha. She pulled at too many of her maternal heartstrings for Summer to let her languish like this.

"Here," she said, producing a paper box and opening it up, revealing a hidden treasure of chocolate chip cookies she placed on the table between them. "Take as many as you want. According to Yang, Ruby never shared the cookies I _asked _her to at the party."

She smiled warmly towards the girl, and she could see that Pyrrha, as wary and fretful as she seemed, still let a hand cautiously stretch forward and grasp a cookie, bringing it back for inspection… and then a swift consumption. Summer had a flash of memory of her pocketing food earlier, something she had _thought _was some kind of threat, and now she, guiltily, knew that it was an old scar of a deprived childhood. But Pyrrha, at least, didn't know what Summer was thinking. She seemed to approve, though was careful not to show it too much as she mumbled a cautious thanks. Stress baking was a hobby for Summer, but in this craziness, taking the time to bake cookies hadn't _seemed _like a good use of time until she saw Pyrrha's careful bites, telling her it had been the right thing to do.

Summer couldn't help but smile at that. Teenagers trying to hide their feelings was a language she was _quite _fluent in, and that was the one skill she was really bringing here, so it was good to see she had _some _success with it.

"So… Yang tells me you're _quite _the fighter..."

She saw the girl's sullen façade ruffle a little, unable to resist a chance to preen on the subject of her martial skill. Yang had confirmed much of Qrow's early assessment—she was the fighter of the five, and displayed her impressive skills in their field mission. However, though Summer had been hoping that it'd be an avenue to getting her talking, she was still just mumbling short, monosyllabic acknowledgements.

Fortunately, Summer was no stranger to taking a new tactic when the old one wouldn't work.

Giving Pyrrha a probing look, it wasn't long before she roused the girl's curiosity. And it wasn't just a tactic—Summer saw a lot of herself in Pyrrha, just as she saw a lot of Ruby and Yang in her. That _striving _that spoke to her so clearly… she thought she saw a chance to make a connection on that.

She began with a confessional tone. "I used to be the head of Team STRQ. And it was… a lot. You've met Qrow, he was on the team… a lot, ummmm… let's just say 'rougher around the edges' when he was a younger man. And I met my husband through the team. And then..." she felt her throat grow thick as her words dredged up that old grief, "there was Raven. She was… she was Qrow's sister. My Taiyang's first wife, Yang's mother, and... my best friend."

Pyrrha was silent, but noticeably reacted to the words _Yang's mother._

Summer continued. "But she had… problems. A lot of problems. And no matter how many times I tried to get through to her, to tell her that she didn't have to keep running around, that she had a place _here… _It never worked. She couldn't just get it through her head that she wasn't being brave or strong, she was just being _proud _and that if she could just… could just _calm down _for a moment, there were people in her life who _cared _for her. But I never really succeeded. Yang... told me that you're having some difficulties with trying to get through to someone, and, listen, I _know _what that's like. And not just with Rae. I spend a lot of time worrying about my girls. Yang and Ruby, they're… they mean everything to me. And I know how it is when the ones you love just don't _get _that you're trying to help them. Listen: I'm my husband's second wife and the mother of two _teenagers. _I know what it's _like_ when the ones you love drive you _crazy _because you don't know how to get through to them that you _do _love them."

Pyrrha gave a little laugh. Not because it was funny, but because… because Summer had gotten through, she supposed. Maybe no more than an inch, but enough that Pyrrha recognized that this whole anecdote, all her guts-spilling was just a way to set up that point.

A weak, wry smile on her face, Pyrrha looked back to Summer… and finally spoke. "You… you know what it's like when you love someone, and they love you, but… but they don't love you like you love them? What… what can I do to… change his mind?"

With a rueful laugh, Summer leaned forward "How many years was I asking myself that very question…" she sighed, remembering crying herself to sleep every date night after Tai and Rae "missed the last Bullhead," or the _pain _she struggled to bottle up at their wedding. "Sometimes… you just can't change someone's mind, honey."

It hurt her to see Pyrrha's wounded, desperate expression, her clear hope that Summer would have some insight, guidance, or trick that would save the day. But she didn't. She'd seen the look on Yang and Ruby's faces before, the look of realization that, sometimes, mommy _couldn't _make it all better. That some parts of the world were just unfair.

"If you love someone, you just have to trust them. My... Tai took a while to come around. But you can't force it. It takes trust and patience and... and I know how hard that is."

Summer sighed. She'd been on the front lines of learning _everything _she could about these kids for as long as they'd been in Remnant, and yet, what did she really know about them? Well... Looking back and Pyrrha, she tried a new tack.

"Yang thinks pretty well of all of you, and... and she's a lot more insightful than you might think."

Another mention of Yang caused a stir in Pyrrha's expression. Her eyes, briefly, darted upwards to Summer's in a brilliant emerald _flash. _Summer was proud of her girl, for making such an impression on these kids, for being so mature and responsible, and she hoped this would help reach _something _inside her.

"After she told us you needed help, I asked her... I asked her about all of you. She knows you better than anyone else in Remnant, and... and it's so clear to me that she _admires _you. She admires how strong you are, how much you care for your siblings. And..." Summer cracked a hesitant smile, "that she was rooting for you two. She really was."

Pyrrha couldn't suppress the faint flicker of a smile across her face to hear that. This was... this was at once something Summer knew _all_ too well, comforting a teenager about an unrequited crush, something she'd had to step in on at Signal more often than not, and something incredibly out of her depth, but both issues were so entwined together, it was hard to tell if she was ever making progress.

"I just..." Pyrrha's eyes slumped down, but her voice was more open now, even confessional. "I'm just tired. It feels like... like none of this matters. I have only ever had one purpose in my life, in my _entire _life, and... and he doesn't want me. He doesn't want me the way I want him, he doesn't even want me the way I _serve _him, and if that's all... what's even the point? All I am is a weapon of war for someone who _doesn't want me."_

Summer was quick to reassure her. "Pyrrha... you're more than a weapon, you're-"

"People don't think that," Pyrrha unexpectedly shot back, a sudden hiss in her voice, "I've seen how everyone's hands stay close to their weapons around us. Even _yours."_

The accusation hit home, sending Summer _reeling. _She didn't have time to say anything before Pyrrha pressed the attack.

"Because we're just monsters, aren't we?" Pyrrha asked, her voice tight and strained, "We're not _people, _not anymore, and so I can't- he can't- I- I-"

Summer didn't interrupt her. She knew that teenage self-loathing was born out of a desire to be _heard _and sympathized with, and she had to show Pyrrha she was a listener. Even when she hated what she was hearing. And... it was born from a place of horrible, honest truth. Could Summer deny it? Did she not attend regular security briefings and discuss protocols that would _never _be engaged for any ordinary VIP? Pyrrha was just saying out loud what so many of them had been afraid to say—but not too afraid to let it guide thier actions. As Pyrrha broke down into tears, Summer grabbed a tissue and leaned forward, carefully reaching forward to put her arm on Pyrrha.

But, still, the girl was not willing to show that vulnerability.

"You're not monsters," Summer said, her voice weak, "But… you're right. We do have some of the blame for why you feel that way. All this security, all these panics, I don't… I don't blame you, for feeling like you do."

Pyrrha looked back down, clearly embarrassed by her show of emotion. Summer _felt _for her, felt for her so deeply, for how unfair and unjust—usually the watchwords of teenage narcissism, hideously true here—her situation was. But that made Summer think… maybe that's what Pyrrha needed to hear. That it _was _unfair and unjust, and that she _wasn't _wrong to feel that way.

"We're… Remnant, I mean, we're not very good at dealing with hard things," she confessed, "We call you 'the claimed.' Never capitalized, if you've ever seen it written out. When we talk about _the Separation, _that's capitalized, that was an _event,_ but you five… I've always felt it was because we didn't like to _acknowledge _what happened to you. That it wasn't something special or extraordinary, that it was just… like a paperwork matter. Like how luggage is claimed and unclaimed, and I always thought… I always thought that was the most _cowardly _thing about it all. That we couldn't just admit that this _was _something extraordinary, that it was scary and harsh and _brutal _to think about, but… you were going through something _worse. _And we just wanted to paper over it. To try not to think about it. To _move on, _when… when it was you five who were buying us this era of peace. And I think we owe you more than we will _ever _admit, and if what you need is someone to listen to you, to sympathize with you, to mother you… I can do my best. No matter what happens, it's what the world owes you. It's what _I _owe you."

Pyrrha, a girl who was literally never unarmored, looked so _vulnerable _in the moment, her eyes wide with pain, and the fear of a wounded animal, unable to trust the help they knew they so dearly needed. And it broke Summer's heart to see it, imagining her own daughters in this situation and struck by a profound sense of powerlessness where she _knew _she wouldn't be enough.

"I don't… I don't know what you need. I don't know what I can do to help you, but I _promise _you, I can try. I won't leave you behind. _We _won't leave you behind. None of you—Jaune and Blake and Emerald and Weiss and you, Pyrrha."

It was the names. The names of her siblings that put the first _crack _in her armor, making her lip quiver—ever so slightly, but undeniably there—and giving Summer the hope that she'd broken through.

But as soon as she had seen it, it was gone. And Summer was left with a sullen, defensive teenager, a girl unsure of what to do about the awkwardness of the situation or the pain that was chewing her up inside.

She reminded herself what she'd learned from raising Yang through her moody years. Or what she'd learned about herself, when she'd first arrived at Beacon. The truth she was trying to impart upon Pyrrha. The problems of a young adult couldn't be solved in a single day. It took care and love and compassion, but more than anything, it took _time. _And… hopefully… this conversation was the first step to getting her to open up more.

That was, if the world would give them the time for more.

* * *

"So… how'd the talk go?"

Qrow's eyes darted away. "I thought we agreed not to talk about work tonight," he grumbled.

"Yeah, we did say that..." Clover replied, stroking his chin, "But I can tell it's on your mind."

Shaking his head, Qrow lined up his shot. But dammit all, Clover had gotten to him, and his cue struck the ball wrong, turning what should have been an easy cut shot into a dogged mess. With a scowl, he glanced back to his boyfriend. "Goddamn Semblance."

"Well," he chuckled back, "my Semblance's countering your Semblance, so… let's just say it evens out?"

Qrow rolled his eye at Clover's insistence of fair play. It seemed that their Semblances, in Qrow's opinion, weren't _quite _as calibrated as a simple positive and negative balancing act. As Clover eyed his angle, Qrow sipped his beer, wondering… just how much he ought to open up about things. Did he trust Clover? Absolutely. Quite a bit more than he _should, _and that was where the problem was.

For all his reputation as a hard-bitten cynic, Qrow was a man who, once trust was given, it was given _entirely. _He trusted Oz and Summer and Tai without question, and now that he'd let Clover worm his way into his heart… he trusted him too. But Qrow knew that it was dangerous, and, thankfully, Clover knew it as well. They did what they could to sidestep the issues, but both knew that their relationship inevitably meant forwarding what was said to their superiors.

There was a reason intelligence operatives made for poor boyfriends.

But dammit all, Qrow needed to talk with someone about this, and why even _have _a boyfriend if you couldn't talk to him?

"According to Amber," he began, quietly, "Emerald seems to be doing well."

"Oh?" Clover replied, making his shot, which, of course, made a wild dance around the table before going straight in. "Semblances balance out" his ass.

Qrow, of course, pretended not to notice. "Yeah, Amber talked with her. She came out to her siblings the other day, and… well, it went well for her. But it set off the whole thing I was telling you about."

"Yeah, that's… what was _up _with that?"

Qrow just raised his arms in a gesture of "I don't even fucking _know." _Yang had given him a bit of guidance, but she sure wasn't saying what had set it all off. Not to him, at least. "Blake, though," he added, "couldn't help but brag a little about her talents as a spy."

"Oh really?"

Another shot and the 8 ball was in the pocket. _He's damn lucky he's cute, _Qrow grumbled to himself, but he had to admit—it was Clover's game.

After flexing his victory for a little, his boyfriend started to rack the table for another match.

"Yeah," grumbled Qrow, "She's good, I'll give her that. _Real _good, and I got the feeling _Salem's _got an operation that's even better."

"Well," Clover sighed, "I have to say we expected that." But as he was grabbing the balls, he suddenly asked, "But… what do you think of them all?"

"You read the dossier?" Qrow dryly replied.

"I'm assuming it's bullshit," Clover said with a snort.

Heh, straight to the point as always… "Well, you're right and you're wrong. Yeah, it's bullshit, but there's no way to get an answer that's _not _bullshit. We don't know _anything _about these kids. Even Emerald, we barely know anything about them, and that… well, I think I had a good talk with Blake. Amber thinks she had a good talk with Emerald. The rest..."

"What's your read?"

"Gonna tell the Ice Queen?"

"Maybe."

Qrow sighed. The hazards of dating an intelligence operative...

"My take's that Summer and Ozpin _don't _think it went well."

"Hmmm," Clover stroked his chin, pondering the meaning of that. "Nothing overly wrong, but… the sort of thing that's hard to tell?"

Qrow shrugged. "These kids got a lot buried deep, and Summer knows better than anyone how people bury their pain deep-"

His breath hitched as he remembered those long-gone Beacon days, with him and Raven and Tai slowly opening up to their chirpy leader's optimism, and… and the long, painful days that came with that. For him and Rae, especially, and then… the pain that _Summer _went through, losing her love and her best friend, and then finding how much _worse _Raven could hurt her.

"-and whatever ground she made talking to Pyrrha only turned up that there's worse."

"And Ozpin?"

"Who even fucking _knows _when it comes to Oz." Clover had to laugh at that. Say what you will about Ol' Jimmy Ironsides, he didn't do the cryptic riddle bullshit. "So tell Miss Specialest Specialist that we've got more mysteries than we started with, and we've got nothing really to say... but we're hopeful. And... we've got a lot of reasons to be hopeful."

"Appreciate it. And… Winter's in the dark about the… other stuff. For now. If things are as uncertain as you think..."

"It'll probably blow up in our faces."

Clover nodded. "Well, that's enough gloom-and-doom. C'mere, let's enjoy ourselves a little."

Clover's kiss was sudden, long and slow. He said he loved the feel of Qrow's stubble against his cheeks, and his kisses always played up the friction. Qrow, in contrast, preferred a quick peck, and never something so public, but for Clover… for Clover, he'd do it. There was nothing harder for Qrow than to be vulnerable, especially publicly, but either because it was the feeling of his Semblance being quieted or just knowing that Clover was someone he felt _good _with, he didn't mind it so much.

And… he had to admit, kissing was something extraordinary to Qrow. Well, kissing like this. Qrow wasn't much for intimacy, and most of his previous experiences were either purely emotional, like with Tai and Summer, or purely physical, like with his long and storied sexual history of one-night stands. But right now, with their lips meeting, he felt a _connection _with Clover unlike anything he'd ever felt with anyone before. Something deeper and-

"Woo!" someone cried from the bar.

Without looking, shot back, "Shut the _fuck up, _Hong!" making Clover snicker.

Qrow shook his head. "You know how I feel about PDA," he mock-grumbled to his boyfriend.

Clover laughed, high and clear and carefree, the sort of sound Qrow never _understood _but loved to hear. "If you had it your way, our entire relationship would be handled by dead drop."

"It'd be efficient!"

"So you keep telling me."

Qrow smirked. "You young folks, always trying to-"

"I am _literally _only a year and a half younger than you, you know that, right? You can't keep trying the old man act on me."

Qrow shrugged. "It works on Summer, and we went to Beacon together. I get more mileage out of it than you might think."

Clover shook his head. "You're ridiculous… But how 'bout another game and then… loser covers the tab?"

"I'm not falling for that one," Qrow chuckled as Clover racked the balls, "but what the hell… Falling for you's only paid off so far, so what's one more time?"

**Finally, we reach the explanation for why "claimed" is in lowercase. In the invention stage, I liked imagining what it'd be like for the world of Remnant in the 15 years when a monster showed up, took 15 kids as hostages, and then they didn't hear anything for a decade and a half. They're out of sight/out of mind, but at the same time, there's a need to show solidarity in grief with the families of the claimed, a kind of wound that's small enough to be personal, and never really allowed to heal. **

**Things are a little dark right now, but things can get better.** **Or they can violently explode. ****I actually added the Qrow/Clover scene late in the development because I felt the story really needed something optimistic and upbeat with the promise of an early relationship after Amber and Summer have to wrestle with the knowledge that this is bigger than even _they _can handle, in geopolitics as much as psychology. **

**This fic actually grew out of what was originally going to be a continuation of my fic "Fire From the Ashes" (and, weirdly, a sequel to "The King and I"). I actually posted some excerpts from that chapter (you can find a link to it on my Twitter), but this Act in particular draws from some of those thoughts. There was going to be an OC who would be the reborn Pyrrha's therapist, trying to reconcile what she knows about human biology with someone who very much was no longer within those parameters. **

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**


	22. Power Incarnate

The past two days had been the longest, most unending moment in Pyrrha's _life, _but she knew things weren't over yet. Blake and Emerald seemed better. Weiss, sweet girl that she was, was trying _everything _to make people feel better, even trying to make up for candies and treats she had stolen from each of their stashes with little apologies. And Jaune…

Pyrrha couldn't really look at Jaune, not after that night. She felt he didn't know how to look at her, either. It was _humiliating _to be exposed like that, _crushing _to know that the man who was most important to her, the man she was _sworn_ to protect was afraid of her, but worst of all… she hated herself for even _thinking _this, but if she had been only a little more _selfish… _she would have gotten everything she'd ever wanted.

And she could even lie to herself that Jaune would come to enjoy it. Learn that he loved her as much as she loved him. She wasn't _really _trying to force herself upon him, he…

Pyrrha wanted to be sad. Wanted to be depressed like Blake and Emerald and Weiss and Jaune were, where she could just cry on Mrs. Rose's shoulder and feel better about it afterwards. But she _couldn't, _because Pyrrha wasn't sad.

She was angry.

And that anger burned within her like an ulcer, a fire in her stomach that had to be released into the world before it burnt her to a crisp from the inside out.

But there was one thing, one _singular _thing that could quench that fire. That could make everything right. She'd made her sacrifice, but now…

She hadn't spoken to anyone. Not after her meeting with Mrs. Rose. None of them had spoken much. Weiss had given everyone a hug, which had… helped put things into perspective, but it made it impossible to talk about anything. What could Pyrrha say that _wouldn't _reveal to Weiss what was going on? But she couldn't wait any longer.

Jaune was on his way to… somewhere, it wasn't important, when Pyrrha clasped him by the shoulder without warning. Jaune was startled, but not shocked, as he turned to her, his face telling the story Pyrrha already knew.

"Jaune," she began, "We have to talk."

Resolutely, he nodded, knowing that this couldn't be put off forever.

"Pyrrha-" he began, but Pyrrha couldn't let him speak. Couldn't _bear _to hear his reasons.

"Do you like me or not!" she blurted out.

He froze.

She saw the same look in his eyes. That same fear that had stopped her before, but she could only hold the fire back so many times. The gates had been broken; the secret was out. She needed to know.

"Jaune… I _love _you. I've loved you for years and I can't _stop. _And… and it's more than just that!" The words were spilling out of her now, an uncontrollable flow. "I _need _you! My whole life, all I've ever wanted is to be at your side, to be your General, your _Eagle, _leading your armies and delivering the _world _to you, and now… now I don't know what you want or what _I want! _And I… I… You… Jaune, you mean… everything to me, and I… I don't just want to be your sister. I… I still want _more, _and I want… I want you, Jaune. All I want, all I have _ever _wanted is… you. And I need to know..."

Jaune was trembling now. Pyrrha was terrified to ask the question, but what choice did she have?

"Please..." she whispered, "Please, just..."

"I… Pyrrha, I _can't."_

There were words. More words. But Pyrrha wasn't hearing them.

Her heart was breaking, the tears watering in her eyes, burning, stinging, as he tried to apologize, tried to _explain, _but… but there was nothing for this. No explanation. Nothing.

"Jaune, I- I _love _you, I love you..."

Her words trailed off. What could she say that she hadn't already?

Nothing.

There was nothing left. Nothing here.

And Pyrrha's sorrow curdled into the emotion that had always stood by her. Deep within her soul, deep within the Darkness, she felt her _anger _surge and boil like acid.

She turned in a fury. She needed to- needed to be _not here. _She could tear the school brick from brick but she wouldn't _let them see her _like this.

Jaune tried to stop her from leaving, but Pyrrha… she _threw _him backwards with a glare. A part of her _screamed _at the thought that she might have… but she turned away, storming off in a fury, throwing the doors open and _hating _herself for violating her single greatest rule, the very core _reason of her being, _but… she was beyond reason here.

Three pairs of eyes immediately turned to her as she stormed out, and Pyrrha could see their security detail _tense._ Didn't matter; _they couldn't stop her._

"Pyrrha..." Mrs. Rose nervously began, "Are you-"

"I'm heading out," she growled.

Mr. Branwen looked alarmed at that. "You can't-"

"We can't detain you," Mrs. Rose swiftly cut him off, "We just ask that you return before sundown."

Roughly shoving past them, Pyrrha stormed out of the hall. A fight would have been good. Would have given her _something _to vent her fury on, let her tear this whole stupid peace mission to _pieces._ With every step, the rage inside her _grew, _the ground quaking under her footfalls as she _radiated _her anger into the world.

Soon, that fireball inside her was an _inferno, _and her composure _broke. _No longer storming off, she had broken into a _sprint _through the hall, and when she reached the end of it, she didn't stop, leaping through the window, feeling the glass _shatter _against her as she dove from the building, plummeting to the ground below, a cascade of crystal sparkling around her.

She hit the ground with a mighty _thump, _the concrete path giving way against her force as she straightened up from her landing. There was no one around, but she knew if there was, they'd be _running. _But she felt the pull of action, the lure of a target she knew she could _break apart in her bare hands!_

With a primal _glee, _she sprinted forward, seeing the cliff ahead of her and the Emerald Forest stretching out. Full of _Grimm _lurking beneath the treeline, and as Pyrrha _leapt _from the cliff, she thought about Yang's comments about "landing strategies" as she _commanded _the Grimm of the forest to show themselves.

A pack of Beowulves proved an excellent landing opportunity for her as she plunged onto the Alpha, clutching it by the head as her feet _smashed _into its chest, knocking the beast to the ground. With a savage fury, she _crushed _the creature's skull in her hands and let loose her bellowing war cry.

The rest of the pack, with their leader dead and Pyrrha's _scream _echoing in their ears, attempted to flee, but they were lesser Grimm, mere puppets of the darkness. She commanded them to _fight _and fight they did, turning and snarling and attempting to attack her only to discover that they were just smoke and air against her fists as she tore them apart effortlessly.

_Not enough, _she willed to the Forest, _Not yet enough. Come to me. Fight me. Not enough!_

With monstrous force, she vented her _fury _upon the woods around her, a mighty _crack _sounding as a tree in front of her split lengthwise, then began to shatter into splinters that went up in a gout of black flame. Tree after tree followed her lead, her fury boiling over as, through the pulse of her will, she cried out, _COME TO ME! FACE ME AND FIGHT ME!_

A great lumbering noise told her she had her opponent, staggering through the forest. A Deathstalker. Old enough to know what it was facing here. Not powerful enough to resist the call. And so Pyrrha could taste its _fear._

It tried to fight her. To hold up against her _fury, _but what hope did it have? As it tried to swipe towards her with its claw, Pyrrha's right hand met it with a backhanded _slap, _the hard plates of the claw _shattering_ against her. The Deathstalker _screamed_ in its inhuman, chitinous voice, desperately attempting to get her with its tail. Foolish. It was only giving her another weapon.

Seizing the creature's stinger in her hands, Pyrrha felt the rage come upon her, seeing red, seeing blood, as she _plunged _the stinger right into the creatures own back, smashing through its armor, stabbing again and again and _again _until the beast was just a ruined pile of Grimm matter, disintegrating in the sunlight.

Not enough. Not _strong _enough. Couldn't even last long enough to let her vent her _wrath _upon it!

Pyrrha tore through the forest in a blinding fury. Deeper and deeper she went, through wood and brush and Grimm, nothing stopped her. She burst into a ruin of stone and brick and something about it, something about being _useless _and _abandoned _stoked her fury higher. Stones crumbling beneath her fingers like so much water, trees splintering from the _intensity _of her glare before she could even strike out at them! But it wasn't enough!

She sent out the Call, _demanding _that any Grimm in the forest present themselves, _come to her, _and face her fury directly. She could feel the Grimm horde, unable to resist her call despite their best efforts. She could _taste _their fear. Nothing else in the world could make Grimm feel fear but Pyrrha was not like anything else in the world! She was the _mightiest _beast of them all and the world itself _trembled _beneath her!

Small Grimm weren't enough. Piteous nothings, creatures that _did not matter. _But she could feel something. Something bigger. Stronger.

A Wyvern. Big. _Old. _It'd last against her. At least a few minutes, something to sink her _teeth _into as she made it bleed for her! She felt the _pull _of the Darkness within her, the unstoppable force of her birthright as she began to rouse the creature from its slumber, began the _command _for it to face her in battle!

But… no. Something _bigger _approached her. Something even more dangerous.

"Emerald..." she growled as she turned to face her sister, "what do _you _want?"

Her sister stood at the other end of the ruins, making no attempt to hide herself. Mistake.

"To bring you back," she said. "To bring you _home._"

"I'm fine!" Pyrrha spat, "I just need to-"

"Do you _think,_" Emerald exploded, "you _look _fine? Pyrrha, you're tearing the entire-"

Pyrrha gripped a chunk of rubble and _flung _it at Emerald, who effortlessly sidestepped it. "You can't just _throw _things at me until I go away! We're not children any-"

Another, bigger piece of rubble was hurled, this one even faster. Emerald had to split her body down the middle to dodge this one.

"You're just throwing a tantrum!" Emerald accused, "Do you even think-"

"SHUT UP!" she yelled, "JUST SHUT! UP!"

Emerald glared back at her, her eyes shifting into a furious red… the same red as _Jaune's _eyes. Another mistake. And then she opened her mouth and made her third.

"Make me."

With a primal _scream, _Pyrrha surged forward. Emerald was fast, but Pyrrha was the Eagle, and her strikes were as swift as they were merciless, effortlessly connecting her fist with her sister's chest, sending her hurtling backwards into the ruins.

Her body warped in midair. Nothing in Remnant fought like Emerald did, and Pyrrha knew that, even if Emerald wasn't in her league, her sister was a dangerous foe.

She could see the way she turned her momentum around a tree trunk, the musculature of her legs reshaping as she moved to spring at Pyrrha. Planting her feet squarely, she prepared to receive her sister's assault, watching as time slowed down, the trajectory of her assault clear… and foolish.

Emerald _lashed _forward, more like a rubber band than animal musculature, flying at top speed as Pyrrha, with a _roar, _prepared to receive her, swinging her fist forward into-

Nothing.

Pyrrha whiffed, and realized too late that Emerald had snapped into a handspring at the last second, bounding straight up—Pyrrha was briefly blinded by the glare of the sun—until gravity reasserted itself upon her, and she plummeted down, her claws long and gleaming sharp, as Pyrrha could now personally attest to. Emerald's claws were sharper than any blade, and they tore through Pyrrha's body, lines of black blood spurting behind them. A good hit. _Lucky. _But not enough.

Pyrrha's fist crashed into Emerald's jaw, sending her reeling backwards. If she was anything other than a shapeshifter, anything other than Pyrrha's sister, that blow would have been enough. Enough to kill.

If that thought was her mind attempting to reassert her compassion, her sisterly bond, _it failed. _Pain still lanced through her as her body reknit itself from the damage, the black corruption oozing and smoking on her skin, but Pyrrha didn't feel pain like mortals did. It didn't slow her down. Didn't weaken her. It let her give herself over to the Darkness inside her, to call forth power itself!

She was upon Emerald in a moment, engaged in hand-to-hand combat. She could call down her Armory and _end _it, but she needed a target she could vent her rage upon and Emerald could hold her fury like this… at least, for a little while.

Blow against blow were exchanged, the forest crumbling all around them. Pyrrha was stronger, Emerald more evasive, but they still struck without hesitation or pause. When Pyrrha's fury was this engaged, she became akin to another Pool of Darkness, her trace becoming a toxic miasma that could summon the Grimm out of nothing. These Grimmlings were small and unfocused, not worth Pyrrha's time, and so they fled immediately, a raucuos, panicked chorus that provided the score for their sisterly duel.

Snapping up a tree as a cudgel, she swung it lengthwise, Emerald barely evading. A Grimmling was less fortunate, splattering against the timber with a _squawk. _But it had forced Emerald to duck and opened-

Suddenly, Emerald barked, "How much longer do you _need?"_

It was the one attack Pyrrha hadn't prepared for. A _question. _She froze, but Emerald did not take advantage of her opportunity. Instead, she took a moment to… dust herself off, straighten her arm back out, and glare at Pyrrha.

"What," Pyrrha, at last, asked, "what do you mean?"

"You wanted to go out here and hit things for a while, how much longer are you going to take?"

Pyrrha _smoked _with fury. Of all the- how could she even- _how dare she!_ "What do you think this is, a _tantrum?"_

Emerald rolled her eyes. "Obviously. You only do it every time Jaune doesn't-"

"Shut up!"

"No!" Emerald yelled, the intensity of her anger surprising Pyrrha, "No, this time, _you _shut up. Do you have any idea how _frustrating _you are!" Emerald snarled.

Pyrrha glared at her sister, seeing how she _flinched _from the intensity of her gaze. Good. Pyrrha could crank up the heat… "I'm frustrating? _Me? _I'm not the one who ruined _everything, _who told Jaune-"

"Who told him _what?" _Emerald spat, "It's not like either of you were _subtle _about it! What, were you working up the courage to tell him? For the past _four years? _How much longer would you-"

"Do you have _any _idea what you've taken from me, you-"

"You have _everything _I have ever wanted!" Emerald blurted out, but at that, her anger suddenly broke, her shoulder's slumping as her words became tremulous, "M-my whole life… Pyrrha, I've _always _looked up to you… I," and she gave a harsh, sobbing laugh, "I'm actually a whole year _older _than you, but you've- you've always been my big sister. The strong, invincible Pyrrha, our leader, Jaune's _favorite-_"

"I'm not his-"

_"__YOU ARE!"_

Pyrrha looked at her sister in stunned surprise. She'd never heard Emerald so angry before, never heard _anyone _address her with such fury. It briefly blew out her wrath like a candle, the tree trunk dropping from her suddenly listless arm, but her anger was potent, quick to reignite.

"It doesn't matter _who _is the-"

"No," Emerald cut her off, "You don't get it. I'm mad at you b-because..." she clenched her fist and her jaw tightened before she finally forced the words out, "Because you're _better than me. _You've always been the one who I turned to when I needed to not feel afraid. You're stronger than _Mother _and you shouldn't have to be afraid of anything! And it's… it's _frustrating _that you're letting yourself get pushed around like this!"

Pyrrha was knocked off her rhythm "I'm not getting pushed around," she grumbled back.

"You are!" Emerald laughed, a wild, delirious thing. "You stormed out of the room, ran out of the school, _jumped off a cliff, _and started breaking things and you think this is you in _control?"_

Throwing wide her arms, Emerald forced Pyrrha to look around her, seeing the rubble and splintered trees about them, the scar of destruction she carved into the forest on her path from the school.

"You make me so mad, sometimes," she complained, but her voice sounded sadder than anything. "You're stronger than me and more in control than I am and you make it all seem so effortless, and yet... and yet it's just not enough! And how can _I _ever be enough if _you _don't feel like it's enough and that's crazy, but it's true and I just... I want to be happy and you want to be happy, but... Pyrrha..." Emerald said, her voiced pained, "what do _you _want?"

"I don't..." Pyrrha admitted, "I just don't… know anymore. I want… I want _Jaune, _but I want him to- I want him to _want _me, and I don't know how to make that happen."

Emerald stepped forward, gingerly, approaching Pyrrha and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. Pyrrha didn't stop her. Even her reflexes, even the Darkness had no call for action here. She was just… tired.

"Maybe… maybe we can have a purpose _outside _of Jaune. Maybe we can live our own lives, and-"

"But I _love _him!" Pyrrha wailed.

Emerald was quick to protest. "So do I! But… I don't… I don't think I've been listening to him. I was so, so preoccupied with being useful to him, that I just had to be the best Shrike I could be, and he… he never cared about that. He just wanted me to be his sister."

Pyrrha looked up to Emerald, her eyes red with tears and heavy with grief. "But I want… I don't just want to be his sister! I want him to… I want him to love me. Like I love him."

Emerald sat down on the shattered stump of a pillar, and Pyrrha joined her. "I dunno," she said, "I really don't."

"What would Ms. Fall say?" Pyrrha sniped, then immediately felt guilty for being mean about that.

But Emerald just shrugged. "I've learned that… maybe Ms. Fall didn't have all the answers. Or even… _good _answers. Maybe we just need to actually get to know new people and… and maybe we just have to stop thinking of ourselves as _warriors _all the time! I mean, can Jaune love you like that if you're committed to following his every command? You want him to love _you, _but what you want him to love is _the Eagle. _Maybe you've got to, I dunno, just… just stop being the Eagle for a little while. Let him see more of _Pyrrha,_ and… and I think… I think you'd like that."

Emerald's voice had grown soft, but the meaning in it, so warm, so generous, almost moved Pyrrha to tears. Blinking the wetness from her eyes, she leaned her head on her sister's shoulder.

"It's hard," she said.

"I know," Emerald replied.

The two of them sat together a little longer in silence. Emerald had never been… Pyrrha's _closest _sister, but she remembered there were good times for the both of them. Sparring in the courtyard. Going on hunting trips. Making little jokes about Blake when she was getting bossy, or Tyrian when he was getting too weird. Or the night before Emerald's birthday, when they'd come together to protect Jaune from Geryon. Her memories affirmed, again and again, that they were sisters, no matter what differences they had, that they would always be sisters.

"You ready to go home?"

Pyrrha looked around the ruined… ruins. The splinters of wood and rock littered everywhere, the deep gouges in the dirt from her anger. And she felt… she felt she'd gotten it out of her system. For now, at least.

"Yeah."

* * *

Well, that had been a close one.

Summer, in all honesty, had anticipated things to blow up in their faces _yesterday. _Last time they tried splitting up the kids and put them in emotionally stressful situations, they had…

Her eyes involuntarily traced to Clover's hand, remembering the photos and Qrow's description of how hideously _burnt _his skin had been in the hospital. Right now, that hand was being used to pass out dossiers. Intelligence reports collected on today's blowup. She leafed through it, absentmindedly, since she'd already heard most of what was in it in the pre-meeting meeting she'd had with the other Valeans, but it still painted a picture Summer didn't like to see.

The room was tense. Ozpin, and Glynda were keeping their cards close to their breasts—Summer _knew _it was the smart move, but it left her feeling cut out of the loop. A feeling she didn't like, so used as she was to being in the decision room, a full equal of Ozpin's Council rank. At least Qrow and Amber were as out-of-the-loop as she was, but while Summer might have wanted the opportunity to commiserate, to go back to how it used to be before she was appointed to the Committee, she knew he had to give the appearance of being in control. They weren't the sort of person who handled tense boardroom meetings. Well, she wasn't someone who handled them well _either, _but she had more experience with them than they did.

And, of course, there was Winter, looking as frosty as her namesake, well ensconced in her position as the director of the Atlesian force in Vale. Which, under her leadership, was starting to feel more and more like an occupying force poised to just step in and boot the lot of them out. She was flanked by two more Specialists while Clover led the briefing, activating the projector to show an image of Pyrrha landing a _punch _on Emerald hard enough that Summer was shocked the girl wasn't _killed _by it.

Hard to imagine that she'd spoken to that same girl the day before. Seen her eat chocolate chip cookies and sullenly try not to show that she enjoyed them. Summer still felt that same pull of compassion, but also a sense that she had _failed. _She hadn't gotten through to her—or, if she had, offering to be there for her wasn't going to be enough. Pyrrha needed more than that, she needed _real _mothering, and Summer… Summer couldn't give that to her. Not in a single night.

She could see that the image had fired off a complex mix of emotions amongst her colleagues, and Summer knew to pay attention to the room. First, of course, was that Qrow and Amber were _livid _that someone would hit Emerald like that. Summer could tell they'd formed a personal connection with her, and especially with Qrow, who was no stranger for being viciously protective of his nieces.

But their _tactical _minds were also engaged in this. And those minds were _worried. _Pyrrha clearly was just lashing out at her sister, the two of them fighting the way Qrow and Raven used to fight when they were that age—which meant that Pyrrha _wasn't _going all out. That that punch they were seeing _wasn't _as much as she could dish out, and while Emerald could easily endure it, the average Huntsman would be out of the fight on just that!

Qrow and Glynda both seemed to be particularly unsettled by that. But while Qrow was caught up in the emotions of it all, Glynda's experienced and analytical eye was clearly focusing on the fact that they'd _misjudged _the situation. Pyrrha didn't fight like anything else they expected, hitting harder than they'd imagined and simply able to rip through the Grimm of the forest—and even the forest itself—like it was _nothing. _And the way the trees disintegrated, or simply burst into black flame, like her _anger _was vented upon them... Qrow's assessment after Parent's Night had _woefully _underestimated how strong the claimed's brawlers were. And that made them all worried.

But Clover started his presentation and brought their attention to the other big issue of the night. That _Atlas _had seen this.

"From the observation of Specialists Bree and Amin," he gestured to the two younger Specialists who nodded as they were recognized, "we've upgraded our potential threat assessment of the claimed. Pyrrha Nikos and Emerald Sustrai-" Summer noticed that Qrow _flinched _to hear Emerald's "real" name used so casually, "have been upgraded to Tier 2 Threats."

Right below Salem's tier, alongside Leviathans and other city-level threats were placed. Probably appropriate. Made her worry how much big, bad Tier 1 herself was capable of.

"Damage was, of course, minimal due to all engagements occurring within the Emerald Forest and with neither observer being detected by either combatant. However, it's not hard to imagine what it might be like if that _hadn't _been the case. We've prepared an assessment of..."

Summer knew all this already. What she was paying attention to was _Winter. _She was keeping up her mask of studious interest, but Summer had a feeling that she was going to make her opening move any minute now. She hadn't done things so much differently than General Ironwood had, so far, but this was a good opportunity for her to assert her way of doing things. Especially considering that she had been present for the_ last _time one of the claimed had gotten violent.

But as Clover kept up the presentation, Winter wasn't interrupting. Her underlings seemed nervous as all hell, though, and that made Summer worry. They were fairly young Specialists, but… Specialists didn't rattle easy. From what Clover was telling Qrow, things were certainly tense with the change in leadership, but they respected Winter nearly as much as they respected Ironwood, so it was pretty clear that something recent had changed.

Or something Clover hadn't been telling Qrow.

Summer _hated _that she was considering it, especially with how _good _they seemed to be for each other, but Qrow and Clover were in a dangerous position, and Summer didn't want her friend to get hurt. But even more so, Summer knew that they were caught in a political intrigue, and there were dangers for all of them here.

"What we're looking at now," Clover continued, "is how to appropriately respond to this: there can be no illusions that we didn't _know _about the incident, and even if it _wasn't _an attempt to probe our defenses, if we don't respond, we risk them thinking it's acceptable to have such a reaction… and the next outburst might not be in an unpopulated space."

"Do we, uh," Specialist Bree hesitantly cut in, "do we actually _have _any authority to discipline them? Some privileges to rescind or ways to affect them in any meaningful way?"

"We can assign Peter to have dinner with them every night for the next week," Qrow cut in, a crude attempt at a joke, but, like everything else, it was really a test of how _Winter _would respond.

_By ignoring it_ was what appeared to be the answer. Winter merely glanced at her notes, then looked up to Ozpin. "This was, in most respects, a fight between students," she replied cooly, "I would expect the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress to have the most experience with what would be appropriate here?"

That was unexpected. Summer knew not to expect her to call for blood, but to treat this so trivially… she glanced to Qrow and Amber. Amber looked uncertain, but Summer knew how to read Qrow's face on this: _she doesn't care about this… because she's got something else up her sleeve._

Glynda cleared her throat. "The standard punishment for unsanctioned fighting between students would be detention, if we take the fighting between Pyrrha and Emerald to be a scuffle with an appropriate amount of force with no risk of injury, of course. We can't suspend them, but in the case of an international student at the Vytal, which, I suppose, they are… we could restrict social opportunities?"

Summer tensed at that. Yes, the Atlesian delegation didn't know—at least, she _assumed _they didn't know—about the conversations going on, but she knew that punishing the students wouldn't be a meaningful punishment and it would make them even more closed off. Yang had been the one to crack through the claimed's shells because she put herself out there and gave them a space to open up and breathe, space they _needed _more than ever. Summer's mind whirled, trying to think of an interjection that could-

But then Ozpin cut in. "Or, perhaps, the solution is found in the opposite."

All eyes shifted to the old man. Ozpin was a lot of things, and even a Silver-Eyed Warrior like Summer knew she only scratched the surface of what he knew, was, and was capable of. When he spoke, even if it sounded crazy, people _listened._

"Look at the story of what happened," he began, "The both of them relocated to an unpopulated area where, at most, they killed some Grimm and got in a fight—that's something we would consider a _good _outcome in a situation where two of our students entered an altercation. No one was hurt, and the school disciplinary board," he nodded towards Glynda, "wouldn't recommend a punitive response, understanding that these things... happen, instead focusing on making sure it didn't happen again in the first place."

From the look on Glynda's face Summer could tell that Ozpin was either lying or _woefully _out of step with how minor discipline was conducted at his school.

"But this was an emotional action—a girl who lacked the social toolkit to productively vent her anger still did so in a safe way. She fought her sister, yes, but that might be how they know to excise their frustrations. We do not _know," _he said, peering over his spectacles at Winter, "what circumstances they have come to us from. But we know that the circumstances they are in now are unlike any they've experienced before in the Grimmlands. Making progress to helping them understand Remnant and our values would be an emotionally stressful task—if they need to vent stress, I would say our outreach is working."

"What are you proposing?" Clover asked, sitting down and leaning back in his chair. Summer didn't know if she could wholly trust the good-looking Specialist, but… he really seemed to be setting Ozpin up for what they wanted, and Summer was quite thankful they had someone apparently working for them on the Atlesian side.

"The opposite of a detention—more social opportunities, more chances to have positive interactions with students and the people of Vale."

"The situation with the assassination of Isaac Plum pushes me to concern," Winter rebutted, her voice quiet, but forceful.

Looking back at her with an unreadable expression, Ozpin nodded. "The situation there is of extreme concern, but, at present, we have no reason to suspect the Grimmlands, least of all the claimed, had a role in it."

Summer nodded, seeing a chance to chime in. "I'll give the VPD credit on this… their aggressive response to investigating the shooting—and the assistance the Atlesian military detachment is offering—has done a lot to calm tensions. Ms. Fall denounces the shooting, and… well, to be honest, I think I might actually believe her."

Even Qrow raised an eye at that. _Especially _Qrow raised an eye at that. Ever since the word "assassin" had come up in the news, Qrow had brought up the possibility Summer _didn't _want to consider: that _Raven _might be involved. She didn't like to consider it, but Summer, knew she had an answer for why she could trust Ms. Fall, if "trust" was the right word for it.

"Jaune _clearly _wants the diplomatic approach to succeed," she said, and Ozpin gave a slight nod of agreement to that, "and Ms. Fall, for all her… behavior, answers to him."

"Unless he's deceiving you," Winter carefully retorted. Summer didn't have a mind reading Semblance, but she could clearly tell she was thinking of her meeting with her sister, and how quickly it went from joyful reunion to nightmarish horror.

"He's not."

Ozpin's response, as declarative and confident as it was, seemed to shock even the Ice Queen a little. "I have spoken to Jaune in private, and I have discussed this situation with General Ironwood—as I'm sure he's told you."

If there was one thing Oz was good at, it was making it hard to tell if he was just acknowledging a fact or setting up an argument or striking out with a barb. He was a damn cool customer, and Summer had to respect him for it.

"But," he continued, "it is my sincere belief that, whatever else can be said of the Grimmlands, we _cannot _treat the claimed as though they are just an extension of the Queen's will. Having spoken to the Queen..." his voice trailed, darkly, "I believe that she's testing us and them in equal measure. Therefore, it is _imperative _that we show her that the Kingdoms of Remnant are united and strong, strong enough _not _to give into fear and extend them the grace we would any other student."

Clover chuckled, his carefree laugh a welcome reprieve for the relentless weightiness of the room. "You've got something in mind, don't you?"

"I don't," Ozpin said.

"But the kids do," Summer finished, finally bringing up something Yang had mentioned to her before everything went to hell. Something she'd been thinking of for a long while now. "A visit. To _Vale. _Proper, not just a guarded hotel room."

She braced for Winter to blow up on them, to call them out for the _terrible _idea that it was, or for the work it'd thrust onto the Atlesian forces, but… it didn't come. Winter just nodded. "I expect an observation-"

"Qrow and Clover could do it!" Amber cut in, reminding everyone she was in the room and also fairly bored. Qrow scowled, but Clover stifled a guffaw, and the contrast made it hard for Summer to keep from laughing, too.

It even seemed to be enough to put a crack in Winter's facade. "Alright, then. Specialist Ebi, you and Qrow Branwen will serve as escort for the claimed. I… don't _believe _that this is necessarily the wisest course of action, but as I have established, I understand this to be a school disciplinary issue—I defer to your expertise, Headmaster."

With that, the Specialist was clearly finished with the meeting, and the Atlesian delegation began to pack up their papers. Amber shot Summer an uncertain glance—what had just happened in the meeting had gone right over her head, but Summer knew her debriefing would just be a number of "I don't knows"—but more importantly, Qrow looked to Clover with a look that Summer could easily read of relief… and gratitude. And Clover gave him a warm look of his own.

They were good for each other. And after so long with Qrow malingering from one failed relationship to loveless one-night stands, it gave Summer a powerful and motherly feeling of relief to see her favorite crow stretch his wings and fly.

But people were packing up to go, because they all knew the sooner they started the post-meeting meeting the sooner they'd be done with it, and so Summer scooped up her papers and moved to leave.

"Specialist Schnee?" the Headmaster suddenly asked, stopping everyone in their tracks, "I know you'll be reporting this to General Ironwood later—I would ask you to let him know that I _agree _with his assessment of the claimed, and that I am carrying out what I believe he would do, in my situation."

Then he turned and left.

**Pyrrha's a tough character to write and give focus to when so much of her character in this story has been that she's hollowed out her identity. But she's someone who's really important to the story and showing the immaturity that belies her character. She and Blake are the most outwardly composed of the girls, but that whole thing's built on a house of cards, compared to insecure Emerald who, by constantly confronting her own limitations, has a much easier time growing away from what she once was.**

**It's tough to balance an ensemble cast like this, and I do feel that Pyrrha's one of the most shortchanged of the main characters, but I do what I can to make sure that characters build off of each other as attention rotates through the central cast.**

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**


	23. Happiness Is In Her Smile

"Pyrrha!"

Weiss sprang to her side and threw her sister into a hug, like she'd been doing every time Pyrrha came into a room since her outburst.

"Weiss, uh," Blake said, "you don't have to hug her _every _time she-"

"But you said I had to be extra-special nice to Pyrrha because she was feeling down! …and that I'd get ice cream cake if I did it."

Pyrrha had to laugh at that, wrapping her arms around her sister. "And have you gotten your ice cream cake yet?"

"No," Weiss responded, the lights in the room dimming as her voice suddenly turned dark and vengeful.

Chuckling, she squeezed her sister close before letting her go. "I'll talk to Jaune about fixing that."

"Actually…" Blake spoke up, timidly, "Emerald, Weiss and I… we've sent Jaune out on an errand for a bit so we… so we could talk. The four of us."

Emerald patted her hand on the bed next to her and Pyrrha took a seat. Blake and Weiss gathered close, and Blake produced a small, white fingerbone.

Pyrrha reached into her Armory and pulled out a matching one of her own, as did Weiss and Emerald. Holding it in the air, feeling its smooth, ivory white texture beneath her fingers, Pyrrha looked from one bone to the next.

Before Geryon had been sentenced to die, he had confessed to having shoved Jaune into the path of danger. With his right hand. Pyrrha wanted to cut it off right then and there, let it serve as the justice he'd called down upon himself by hurting his Prince. But Blake had objected, had been the voice of wisdom. There was no reason to torture him when the Shrike was the one tasked with distributed their brother's justice.

Though Pyrrha wanted to hear him _scream, _she couldn't disagree with Blake's reasoning. She deferred to Emerald, who carried out her task she had been raised to do with the skill and swiftness of all her training. Still… the man had broken their most sacred law. And so they had removed the offending hand and each had kept, as a record of their deed, one bone from each of the fingers.

The thumb was Jaune's, but… they had discarded it. He… he wouldn't have understood the significance it had to them, and so they had silently and secretly presented it to him as a trophy, purely in a ritual, a pillow standing in for their brother, and then disposed of it.

But these bones were a sign of their bond. Of their connection as the Birds of Prey, the Daughters of Salem, of… of their _sisterhood. _They had come together in that moment as one. And if needed, they would always have each other's back. Bringing them out was a sign of truce when they were fighting, a gesture of love when they needed support.

"All we have is each other," Emerald said, "I… I like a lot of the people I've met here, but you guys… you're my _sisters. _The only people I _know _will never turn on me, can actually understand what I've been through… because you've been right there with me."

"And I don't want anyone fighting anymore!" Weiss declared, "So if you can't share Jaune-"

"That's not what this is about!" Emerald quickly cut in.

"Well, _I _don't like it, so if you two can't share Jaune, then _I _get him," Weiss sad, arms folded across her chest.

Pyrrha… Pyrrha had to admit, the sight of her sister suddenly becoming bossy was cute. And… she had a point. Glancing over to Blake, it was clear that a similar thought was passing through her mind. But this was something that couldn't be done through silent messaging. But… but it was hard. Pyrrha was a warrior and a General, the Eagle of War, not someone who handled messy social situations. She knew how to _break _things, but to mend them… it was too _hard._

No.

No, she couldn't run away here, just because it was "too hard." She was Jaune's foremost lieutenant. And that meant it was her job to take leadership here.

"Blake..." she said, her voice struggling to hold her emotion back, "I… you're precious to me. You all are, and… and we all love each other. And no matter how I feel about Jaune, I wouldn't want to do _anything _that would cost me my sister. _Ever."_

Blake blinked away a tear. "Pyrrha," she rasped, her words choked on emotion, "I… you've always been who I've turned to when I'm afraid. You've always been… you're the strongest of us. You're our _leader, _and… and you're my sister! I'm..." she hesitated a moment, eyes darting to the floor, "And I'm sorry I tried to… I tried to force you. I didn't want… I didn't want to hurt you."

Pyrrha got up from the bed and went over to her sister, wrapping her in a tight hug. The two of them held each other in silence. And just for a while, that was all there was. Her and Blake, in silence.

Eventually, Pyrrha gently released her sister, and she felt… good. Light. Like she'd just let go of a burden she'd been carrying for too long, and her muscles could finally relax.

"There's more," Blake said as she looked to Pyrrha, her face obviously wrought with awkward uncertainty. "I got… I got a message from Yang..." she admitted, "that I… didn't want to respond to, but she- she wants," Blake struggled to _force _her tongue to say the words, "she wants to hang out with you, me, and Jaune… and get… dinner together. Just the four of us."

Pyrrha stared at her sister in disbelief.

"I've told her she can't call it a _double date, _but… I think it would be… good. For the both of us, and… and for Jaune."

"I'm gonna get ice cream with Emerald and Ruby," Weiss interrupted, "So you don't have to worry about me while you're on your date!"

"It's not a _date!" _Emerald threw up her hands in exasperation, "We talked about this before Pyrrha got here!"

"But..." Blake smiled, slyly, "I don't think… I don't think it'd be the worst thing for you, me, and Jaune to get dinner together and… well, you know-"

"And Yang'll be there!" Weiss chimed in.

"Weiss!" Emerald cried, "I _specifically _told you-"

"But it's true! She's going to be there!"

But Emerald and Weiss's shouting was easily tuned out by Pyrrha. Her eyes were on Blake. Where she stood with Jaune was… was something Pyrrha was struggling with. But she still needed to know where she stood with Blake.

"We're… we're still sisters, and," Blake swallowed nervously, "still… friends, right?"

Pyrrha didn't hesitate to answer.

"Always."

* * *

"I need your help."

Jaune looked, shame-faced, to his friends as he admitted something Mother had told him to _never _do to someone who wasn't family. It was the kind of weakness that she abhorred, coming right after his own moment of treacherous temptation with the Headmaster's kindness. But he needed to do this. He needed to do this _right._

"Well, you've come to the right place," Neptune said with a wide grin. "Cause when it comes to girls-"

"He didn't say anything about girls," Ren corrected.

Neptune scoffed. "It's obviously about a girl. What _else _makes a man look like this?"

"The cops could be after him," Sun suggested, "That's what I'm-"

But his words set Fox off. _"What cops?_ He's a foreign dignitary! What cop is going to arrest the _Prince of the Grimm _for any-"

"You may have chosen the wrong group to turn to for help," Ren told him flatly.

But Jaune just laughed. After… after everything that was going on, it was good to have some levity. He wasn't sure if… if things between him and Pyrrha had been ruined forever. Blake told him that they'd be okay, that Pyrrha just needed a little space and Emerald had said she wasn't mad at him, but he still… He needed to make it up to her. Simple as that.

And… and Jaune wanted to- to _find out _if he was capable of being what Pyrrha wanted from him.

She was… she was beautiful. Not just her… figure, it was still difficult to think of _Pyrrha _in those terms, but that she had the grace and inner strength that left Jaune _awed. _She didn't fear the Darkness, not like he did. He hid from it, pushed it away, but Pyrrha _embraced _it—she offered to sacrifice every scrap of herself in exchange for their protection. How could he _not _love her? Everything that mattered to Jaune, Pyrrha was the paragon of.

She had always been his closest sister, his personal bodyguard in Mother's eyes, but more than that. His confidant, his lieutenant. He trusted her more than anything, she was his rock. She was dearer and more precious to him than anyone else, and… and he wanted to _show _her that. To open his heart to her, to try and be something _more _than a child. But he didn't know _how._

As the boys continued their raucous argument, now quarreling if it was less bad to commit a crime if it was an impressively involved and sufficiently cool crime, Jaune knew he'd come to the right place.

"I, uh, actually do need help about a girl."

"CALLED IT!" Neptune cheered.

"Wait!" Fox cut in, _"Who?_ No offense, but… wait, is it Dew? Holy shit, I heard the rumors, but-"

"No, no, no!" Jaune quickly cut in. He didn't even know who "Dew" _was. _"It's, um… it's..." he cleared his throat, "There's a, uh, cultural interchange event at, um, a restaurant, and… I-I'm going with my sisters, Blake and Pyrrha, and-"

"Both of them! _Niiiiiiiice!"_

"Sun, what the f-"

"It's not like that!" Jaune said, a fluster of protests, "I mean, it, uh, it kind of is? I just, I mean—they, um, came on to me and-"

A chorus of "_Niiiiice!" _cut him off.

Even Ren had a faint, irrepressible grin on his face. "I understand that you're facing a hardship," he said, "but it is rather impressive."

Jaune felt his cheeks grow hot. He supposed it was. None of what he knew of romance involved a man with two girls, though, he'd never really thought of the sort of thing _Blake _had shown him except in the most abstract _yearnings _until she and Pyrrha undressed and presented themselves to him.

"I just… need some advice. A-about getting dinner with them! Just dinner."

Neptune's eyes got wide. "You've come to the right-"

"Do_ not_ listen to Neptune!" Fox protested.

"Uh, a date with _two girls? _Come on man, it's-"

"It's not, uh, a date," Jaune said weakly, but was largely ignored as Fox, Neptune, and Sun were caught up in an argument about their respective romantic prowess.

"Don't worry," Ren quietly said as he pulled Jaune aside, "I can tell you what you need to know. How about we slip out, and I'll walk you through this over tea?"

Jaune smiled, a surge of relief in his chest. "That'd be great," he said.

And the two of them left the other three to their argument.

* * *

Qrow and Amber had promised Emerald they'd make sure that Mrs. Rose signed off on her and Weiss getting a chance to go into the town with Ruby (Weiss's insistence) and minimal chaperoning (for some reason, Amber felt that there'd be little objection to Qrow and Clover having the task, a joke Emerald didn't get). But there was one last thing she needed.

And Cinder owed her a _big_ favor.

So she had arranged a very particular meeting for Emerald, one that she was as incredibly nervous to attend as she had been to come out to her siblings.

"Ahem," Emerald said, trying her hardest not to blush as the other side of the table tried to suss her out. "Ms. Neopolitan," she began, looking at the radiant assassin giving her a playful smile that made Emerald's knees start buckling, even though she was sitting down, "I think… I have been thinking that… I don't want to..."

Ohhhhhhh, everything was making her so _nervous!_

Why did Neopolitan have to be so _pretty? _And cool? Why did _Roman _have to be there? And what would happen if she said no? What would happen if they laughed at her? Ohhhhhhh, she didn't like this, didn't like this _at all!_

But she had to do it! Had to! Had to do it right now!

"Would-you-like-to-go-out-with-me!"

Their faces were easy to read, even without Emerald's talents. Roman's was a mask of horror, even _Cinder _seemed a little alarmed at the idea, but Neopolitan's had a wonderfully clear response on it.

_Sure._

"You would?"

Neopolitan's eyes went up in surprise._You can tell what I'm saying?_

"I am, uh, I am a _very _good face reader, Ms. Neopolitan, um, if you don't, um, mind me calling you-"

_Call me Neo._

"O-okay, um, Neo." Emerald stammered, hardly able to believe that she'd actually achieved a _date. _With _Neopol- _With _Neo!_

"Wait," Roman cut in, "Neo, you saw what- _Cinder, _you can't be seriously-"

"Seriously _what, _Roman?" Cinder asked, her voice arcing like a whip.

Roman seemed to get the message. Casting one last _you can't be serious_ look to his partner, he stepped back, raising his hands in a sign of defeat.

_I've got the perfect place in mind—pick you up at 6?_

"I- I-" she struggled to keep her eyes from tearing up as she _tried _to look cool. "I would _love _it! I'll meet you at six and- oh! Yeah, um..." she rubbed the back of her neck, "It's kind of, um, not a… date-date?" she said, suddenly feeling like the world's _biggest idiot, _"Cause, um, my sister and her, um, her friend are also going to be coming along… if that's okay… I'd get it if you didn't want to-"

But the look on Neo's face, the look of pure sweetness and light made all Emerald's worries dissipate into nothingness.

_It sounds like fun!_

Emerald stifled a giggle, almost unable to believe her luck, shooting a look to Cinder who had her own, suppressed smile. A smile of her quiet pride at Emerald's accomplishment. And she shot a look to Roman who just looked _totally bewildered _which worked out _perfectly _for Emerald, too!

* * *

Not all things in this world were simple and good. Winter would like to believe in diplomacy and the brotherhood of all nations, but she was a member of the Atlesian military. And as much as it was for an ongoing war against the monsters that surrounded them, Winter was trained in the event that war would be made against humans. Many of the tactics she knew were useless against the Grimm. They were prepared for _other _scenarios. Still... this was something even further from that.

Assassination was not something Atlas did.

It was forbidden by multiple treaties between the Kingdoms. Outside of a state of open war, the military was _not _supposed to be directly ordering the deaths of Kingdom citizens. And extranational entities, like the White Fang, were supposed to likewise be protected from state-sanctioned murder. It was official policy that the Kingdom of Atlas did not sanction any secret, extrajudicial killings.

As a result, Winter had only ever coordinated one once before.

But she knew the basics of a black ops mission. And this one was doubly off the books, considering that Atlas didn't "know" and had no "involvement" in this. It would be financed by a private citizen and coordinated by the Chieftain of Menagerie. But they were using Winter's contacts, and that meant that Atlas would be considered involved, should word get out.

She had tacit approval from the Council, and yet, she wondered how that would be taken should the plan fail. Winter would be proud to sacrifice herself for her country, to fall on her sword, to claim that she was the independent mastermind, without any government involvement. A dutiful sister, driven to the extremes by grief. It would be true enough, but would the world believe it?

Well, no use dwelling on failure before they were even begun.

Shooting a quick glance around the room, Winter scanned the rest of the conspiracy. Herself. Her father. Kali and Ghira. Dr. Merlot. And the assassin.

Marcus Black.

Winter's personal preference would have been to hire Raven Branwen. She wasn't… pleasant, but she was _effective, _and in the world of off-the-books extrajudicial assassination, the former was meaningless and the latter was everything. She did what had to be done, didn't leave a trace of her involvement, and could be trusted—for whatever value the word had when dealing with this contract killers—to carry out the mission with no risk of anyone finding out who was behind her. If it wasn't for the fact that Ozpin kept her _brother _on his payroll, Winter would have hired her in an instant.

But Marcus Black was, if nothing else, capable. And that was what mattered here. His profile indicated he was capable of making the kill, and once… once Arc was removed from the picture, they had their opportunity to save Weiss. To free her from her state.

Every moment of that horrible day was playing, over and over again, in her mind. Not just the attack, but the moments _before. _Seeing her… seeing her sister _smile _and the way it utterly unmade her. How _desperate _Winter was to see her smile again, to just have her _sister _again! Hatred and grief tumbled in her mind in equal measure, and that was what brought her here, to this room, into this dark point in history.

Her father looked at the man imperiously, a trace of disgust at the contract killer. "We're paying you a _lot _of money—I want to know that I'll get what I'm _buying _here."

"Three hundred million lien gets anyone killed," Black replied, "Doesn't matter if he's a Prince or a pauper, so long as I can get to him, he's already a dead man. I take it, though, that he _can_ be killed?"

"Preliminary analysis suggests that the young man is hardier than equivalent human specimens, even Huntsmen," Dr. Merlot explained, "but he's not invincible. His human body seems to be essential for his functioning, so sufficient traumatic injury _will _lead to a cessation of life."

"So… overkill?" the hitman dryly asked.

Dr. Merlot nodded. "It would be recommended to do all that is possible to ensure the target dies in the initial attack. You will likely not get a second strike."

Black nodded, soberly. "Come at the King… it's a tricky subject," he mused, "but if he _can_ die, I can ensure the outcome. What's the plan?"

"There's a meeting between myself, as the Chieftain of Menagerie," Ghira explained, "and the Arc boy. My daughter will be… present, and should any harm come to her-"

"I understand," Black said, preempting the threat. "No collateral damage, I can work with that. So you'll have your security there?"

Ghira nodded. "Yes. You wouldn't blend in with Menagerie guards, being human, but we can get security clearance to disguise you as part of the support staff. We have a uniform prepared, and a specially built cart that will enable you to get your weaponry in past security."

Black pondered this, glancing towards the map of the meeting room they had up and slowly working out his strategy.

"Doesn't seem to give me an easy exit strategy," he noted, his voice as neutral as possible to blunt the impact of his implication.

Kali nodded. "Security will work to subdue you and take you alive. Ideally, you'll be taken by Menagerie guards, but there will be two elite Huntsmen there as well. If you're taken by Specialist Clover Ebi, you'll be taken to Atlesian custody, and we'll be able to get you out. Do _not_ get taken by Summer Rose—we'll have a much more difficult time getting you out if the Valeans take you."

"Hmph," the man grunted, "And I suppose when I'm in your custody, none of you might think to save a few hundred million by cutting off a loose end?"

"I have no doubt you have contingencies prepared should there be a betrayal," Winter coolly informed him. "We have much more at risk should you prove to be… indiscreet."

Black chuckled darkly at that. "I'm a professional. I do my job and I keep my mouth shut, so long as the money comes in. What about your daughter?"

"Not a particular concern," Dr. Merlot explained, "We anticipate the... psychic shock of the Prince's death should leave her temporarily incapacitated. At least, for enough time for the guards to take you."

"And as for the money," her father pushed forward a paper detailing how the rest of the payment would be quietly filtered to him, " you've been paid your advance already through a shell company. Memorize this now, particularly the routing numbers. I'm burning anything that might be considered a paper trail, and I'm not taking risks here."

Marcus nodded, looking over the complex codes. A good memory was worth a damn lot in an assassin, or any other field where records were a hazard, and Marcus was one of the best for a reason.

"So," he asked, "any preference on the style of his execution?"

Winter looked to Ghira and Kali, then to her father. It seemed too… grisly a subject for them to want to discuss it with more than shaking their heads _no._

Marcus seemed to grasp that they weren't going to give him an answer. "Personally, I'd usually favor something that lets me have some distance from myself and the target, but we need to be _certain_ that this is a success on the first try, so I agree with the plan to let me get up close and personal. But I have to ask..." he said, looking to Ghira, then to Winter, "This assassination… this is one for the history books, but more so in what it's _setting off. _Are you sure-"

"That is our concern, Mr. Black," Winter told him, a hint of acid in her voice, "and not something you need to concern yourself with."

The man nodded, quietly, but she could tell… she could tell even the professional hitman was struck by the extraordinary weight of what they were about to embark on. How many would be dead by the time the dust settled? No… it wasn't worth dwelling on that. How many more lives would be spared with a Remnant that was no longer in the shackles of the Grimm? When humanity and Faunus kind could settle all across the planet, no longer living in fear of the monsters in the darkness? But while that might mollify her qualms on the _long term _consequences, they did nothing about the short term. And those did not sit well in her gut.

Winter was a _soldier;_ she knew what it meant to follow orders. She knew what it meant to do what was necessary. She knew what it meant to kill.

She had visited Fria while in Atlas, before her orders had her return to Vale. She knew what was happening here, and so did Fria, though she didn't say it out loud. Their conversation was still ringing in her ears.

_"__I've told James a hundred times, there's no standing on sentimentality. I'm a soldier, as much as he is, just as much as you are." She gestured towards the pill container beside her bed. "Better to figure out the transition now and make sure the power goes to you, make sure you get some time to learn how to use it, before it's needed."_

_Winter just bowed her head. "You've… given so much for Atlas, for all of Remnant. We can't repay our heroes with… with that."_

_"__You'll have to do it sooner or later," Fria gave her a wry grin, "I'm a tough old bird, and not one to go down without a fight. And you and I both know we don't have much time left—but you should consider yourself lucky. James wants me to handle the transition myself. My proposal was to make sure you got it and have you settle things with that."_

_Winter didn't miss how her eyes went to her saber. It was unthinkable, but... _

_"__Orders are orders," Fria completed the thought, "I've carried out orders I've hated and I hate what these orders are going to put you through. But I know it's for the right cause. Just… promise me, once you've taken my position… promise me that you carry out your orders. That you finish that old witch off, once and for all. Make all of this worth it."_

_Winter looked Fria, her mentor, her… friend, as hard as that friendship made everything, and said, "I promise. I'll make sure to tell the bitch that you'll be waiting for her in Hell."_

_"__Good girl."_

But this wasn't like any other mission. Any other killing. Anything Winter had ever done before. She could dress it up all she wanted, try to formalize it or weigh it in the grand moral calculus of a world without Grimm, but that didn't change what this _was._

Murder.

**A mix of sweetness and intensity in this chapter as we now have a deadline for when the shit hits the fan!**

**The girls keeping Geryon's metacarpals felt like a good reminder that they _are _killers and, as much as they have cute dating dramas and the like, they are not psychologically well. But they're not the only killers here.**

**Fria's another character who's a bit different in this timeline. More grizzled, more of a soldier, wholly aware that she's a military asset, and if she can't fight as well as she ought to, she's got to step aside and get that power to someone who can. That she can only do this by dying is something that, as you can see, she's come to terms with.**

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**


	24. Date Night

Blake nervously looked at the door. She was supposed to be here with an escort, like any other time they were on Beacon's campus proper, but it wasn't exactly hard to slip them. Not like anyone tried to stop them—ever since their talk, Qrow had been making a show of not seeing her, even when she _wasn't _trying to sneak out. Most likely to show they trusted them, or something like that.

But… but it wasn't the fact that she was breaking the rules that made her nervous. If anything, it made her feel more confident. More in control. No, there was another reason causing Blake to hesitate when she knocked on the door.

A reason made clear as it flung open the door and smiled brightly at her.

"You're here! You didn't run away when you had the chance!" Nora cheered, "Oh boy, oh boy, _OH BOY! _Ren said I had nothing to worry about and he was _right! _Ooh, I made tea, do you want some? And if you think it's gonna be Valean tea, you don't have to worry—we got the good stuff! Sometimes, I just wonder why anyone drinks Valean tea, but then I realized, if Valeans drank Mistralian tea, then _that _would be-"

Blake knew she had to nip this in the bud. "Tea sounds lovely, thank you," she said, and her... and Nora just raced off to a small kettle in the corner.

Yes, this was something Blake was not at all prepared for, but… that was why she was here. She had never had to prepare for anything like a date before tonight, and while Blake was _extremely _well versed in romance from a reading point of view, in practice… she had nearly caused irreparable harm to two of the people she loved most. So when Nora had volunteered to help her get ready for the evening, Blake had, surprising even herself, agreed.

At least the tea was good. Nora hadn't been kidding—Mistralian tea was much better than Valean, though she figured that likely had more to do with Mr. Ren's involvement and careful selection than his… whatever relationship the two of them had. Even for the Hawk, the all-seeing eye of the Prince of the Grimm, Blake couldn't _quite _get a read on these two.

"So, you've come to the right place!" Nora said with a broad grin. "First of all, let's run down your various assets—first, you're hot." Blake, again, a trained infiltrator and a master at suppressing her emotions _immediately _spat out her tea. "Like, super hot. Which is really the only asset you need, so I stopped counting after that."

It wasn't just the suddenness or the crudeness or the guilelessness, it was the way Nora's soul _pulsed _with sheer cheerfulness and optimism. Blake wasn't _used _to that, and even if the Darkness inside Blake had gone from _hating _the girl at their first meeting to just conceding to do whatever she wanted to make her go away, Blake was still not prepared for such sudden _bursts _of positivity. But Blake wasn't giving in to her Darkness today. So she fixed a smile to her face and continued to listen.

"Now, you might be asking yourself, 'Nora, if I'm already a smoking babe, what else can be done for me?' And that's a great question _I can't answer! _But I can do your makeup and I've picked out the _perfect _dress for you!"

That was when Nora lunged at Blake with a speed and ferocity she'd only seen before in _Pyrrha._

A makeup kit was produced without any warning, and Nora became a _typhoon _of rouge and lipstick, painting and penciling with a wild abandon that Blake was too stunned to stop—and too afraid of how Nora was using that eyebrow pencil to even _think _about moving.

"You're really, really pale, so I've gotta give you _a lot _of color here, like _a lot."_

Blake was trying not to think on whether or not Nora regularly wore makeup and if she might have any experience with what she was doing.

"But we're making great progress, great progress! And… finished! Man, you were _way _better for this than Ren usually is!"

But before Blake could think about what that meant, Nora had _jerked _her to her feet and _dragged _her to the closet. If she was a typhoon before, now she was a hurricane, as a storm of outfits flew about her as Blake got yanked hither and yon, blouses and skirts held up against her, her own clothes _yanked _off with a yelp, only to be _stuffed _into something else.

"Got the perfect outfit for ya!" Nora called as she shoved the more-than-half-undressed Blake forward.

"What- what are you dressing me up- _urk!_" she cried out as she realized that Nora had put her in a _corset._

"You're in Vale, sister, and as a fellow non-Valean, I only know three things about them: they care about wine, they care about cheese, and they _do not believe in modesty. _So you've got to dress to impress tonight, and I swear I'll make sure that every eye in the room is _permanently fixed _to your figure!"

Blake wheezed as, with a sudden _yank, _Nora pulled the strings of her corset as hard as her aura-infused might could manage.

"Do you have internal organs?" Nora asked, with no context of prompting, "Or is it all just grimmstuff in there? Cause I could _really _give you a dynamite hourglass if I don't have to think about-"

"I have organs!" Blake desperately managed to choke out.

Nora sighed. "Ah, shame." But then she brightened. "Still—check yourself out in the mirror! You look _good _with a rack, and it'll really help you stand out with Yang there. Oh, was I supposed to know you have a crush on your brother? Ren told me there was something I wasn't supposed to bring up. I think it was that. Do you think it was that?"

Blake was getting good at tuning out Nora's babbling, but more than that, she wasn't listening because, well, the Blake that looked back at her from the mirror looked _nothing _like who she normally was. It wasn't… well, it wasn't anything _good_, but it was so radically different that Blake was struck by the sight of herself so… unmanaged.

She would never allow herself to appear like this, her chest thrust out so aggressively, her makeup, whorish, and her hair a _mess, _but she was letting this happen. She was _allowing _herself to have no advantage here, to completely give over her own expertise to someone who had _no idea _what she was doing, and Blake…

Blake was okay with that.

"Okay, so, you've got, like, super-ninja skills," Nora continued. Blake knew not to blush at a compliment that dumb, but she couldn't help herself but preen about her ability, "So _these _shouldn't be a problem!"

Blake's eyes went wide at the boots Nora produced. Dark leather that went up to her thighs balanced on heels of at _least _six inches. From all her training under Ms. Fall, Blake had never thought that anything like _this _would be remotely useful to her, far too overkill for anything _subtle, _but…

Well, she had conceded Jaune to Pyrrha, but there wasn't any harm in making her have to work for it still, right? He might… _like _seeing this other side of her. The _Ninjas of Love _side of her.

The "not your little sister" side of her.

Sliding her legs into the boots and carefully lacing them up, Blake felt… dangerous. Powerful. The kind of feeling she was used to having when she was in control of situations, but mingled with the thrilling possibility of the _unknown. _She'd never been on a date before. Not even remotely close, and yes, it wasn't a "date," and _yes, _technically, Yang was her "date," but Blake felt electrified by the possibility.

"Oh, _hell _yeah!" Nora cheered as Blake strutted around the room. "You are going to _slay _tonight, girl!"

She was. She was going to _slay. _Show Pyrrha a thing or two about her skills at this. Make her step it up a notch. Especially when she saw the see through blouse Nora was holding up. She'd look like a _streetwalker, _but maybe… maybe that's what she _needed _as she got herself dressed. Yes, this was good, this was _nothing _like anything she'd _ever _wear, and that's what Blake needed tonight. To be _not _Blake. And if she had it in the outfit, she'd have it in her mindset, she was sure.

"Any more advice?" she asked Nora with a grin.

"You've got to learn not to take things so _seriously!" _Nora explained, "Have fun, flirt with a cute boy, be the badass bitch you know you are and _get some!"_

"Get some?" Blake asked.

But Nora just kept going, though her tone shifted slightly. "I believe in you, Blake. Not just because you're a babe with a killer bod, but because you're a _strong woman. _You've got this—you're a lot more than you think you are. Have confidence, not that you're going to get everything you want, but that you're gonna have _fun. _That's all you have to do—go looking for a good time, have fun with Jaune and Yang and Pyrrha and Blake-"

"But… I'm Blake?"

"I know! Have fun with _yourself!"_

For advice that came out of… literally nowhere, Blake had to admit, it wasn't bad. Or she was just winging it, but maybe Nora had a point about that… though maybe this outfit was… a little much. Maybe it was _more _than a little- wait, what was she _doing? _This was insane! She couldn't-

Suddenly, the door opened, and Blake _froze._

"What are you _doing?" _Coco Adel (_second year Beacon student, leader of Team CFVY, emotional connection to Emerald, parents are wealthy figures in Valean society_) shrieked at the sight of them. "Who- How- Did _Yang _say it was okay for you to give _fashion advice, _Nora?"

"Yang never implied that I _couldn't." _

"How did Ren not stop you!"

_"He tried," _Nora growled, and Blake realized that she had stepped into something she was entirely unaware of and _wholly _unprepared for, except… it felt nice? She, rationally, knew that this was _not at all _an appropriate outfit for a ritzy dinner date, but at the same time- _awk!_

"I am going to _fix this," _Coco said with a growl, _yanking _Blake out of the room, "And you don't get to object!"

Blake cut in, "I don't actually mind working with Nora-"

"I meant _you _don't get to object," Coco said, more forcefully, "I am not about to _allow _a travesty against fashion to happen at _my _school, thank you very much."

Not giving Blake time to respond, she dragged the Hawk down the hall, straight to the CFVY dorm.

* * *

Nervously folding, then refolding her hands, Emerald really hoped she didn't look weird while she was looking across the table, staring into the eyes of Neopolitan.

Neopolitan!

She was on a _date _with _Neopolitan!_

Yes, it wasn't a "date," and her _little __sister _was accompanying her with Ruby, but Neopolitan (who had told her to call her Neo, but Emerald was too scared to try) had picked out an ice cream parlor for them, and she was _over the moon._

Alright, time to play this… cool.

Real cool.

Cool, cool, cool.

Just gotta be-

_"Weiss," _she hissed under her breath to her sister, _"use a spoon!"_

Placing her thoroughly licked first bowl of ice cream down with a pout, Weiss grumpily picked up her spoon and started the second.

_Little sisters, huh?_ Neopolitan smiled at her.

Emerald blushed, and couldn't help but have a nervous giggle, "Yeah," she mumbled, "Do you have any sisters."

_Nope. It's always just been me and Roman._

"Oh."

Suddenly becoming nervous, Emerald realized she'd run out of things to say. Ohhhh, this was just like the party again, and this time, she couldn't even pretend she was on a mission, because she was trying to be normal and normal girls didn't pretend to be spying on their friends! And was Neo a friend? Or a g-girlfriend? Or was she blowing it? Ahhhh, this was too hard!

So she looked down to her ice cream, instead, hoping it would buy her some time.

Mint chip. Though she realized that, with Neopolitan getting, well, Neapolitan, it seemed almost like they'd color coordinated. Was that… was that good? Should Emerald have ordered Neapolitan? Ohhhh, she should have asked _Blake _for help, Blake _always _knew what she was doing in moments like this!

Glancing over to her right, she saw that Weiss and Ruby's bowls were… impossible to tell _what _flavor they'd gotten, them being a blend of multiple kinds of ice cream and every topping imaginable. Weiss, she knew, could handle that level of sugar bomb, but she was surprised that _Ruby _apparently could… or the rest of Team YRRN was about to learn that, no, she couldn't.

"Emerald!"

Weiss's voice jolted Emerald out of her thoughts. "What?" she quietly hissed back

"Emerald..." Weiss whispered to her sister, yet obviously not so quietly that the rest of the table couldn't hear, "can Ruby come back to the Grimmlands with us?"

"Weiss," Emerald sighed, "Jaune said you weren't allowed to bring anyone back without-"

"But she likes Jaune! In _that _way, the one we talked about with-"

Ruby had to interrupt _that! _"I d-don't!" she sputtered, realizing too late she wasn't supposed to be hearing what was being said, "Really! I don't- it's not- not at all like that! He's just..."

She seemed to realize that she'd said too much and clamped a hand over her mouth, _hard_, as she turned a shade of red brighter than Emerald thought humans could naturally turn. Emerald felt she could sympathize.

"See?" Weiss said, smugly, "She likes Jaune. She likes frogs. I like her. Ruby is coming back with us."

Neo burst into silent laughter as Emerald wanted to just _die._ She glanced to Qrow for some way to bring sanity back into the situation, but, of course, he was way too wrapped up in his date to be paying attention to the abduction Weiss was planning here. And Emerald _really _didn't want to interrupt them because she really owed Qrow to _not _ruin his date, especially with all the help he'd given her in order to make _her _date happen, even if he _was _their chaperone and Weiss was talking about kidnapping his niece!

So with a sigh, she made an apologetic look towards Neo, who just seemed to find the whole thing _hilarious. _She was so cool, Neo only saw her sister _ruining everything_ as a super-cool kidnapping plot, or something like that. Man, Emerald _wished _she could be as cool as Neo was. Not caring about anything, not respecting any rules, being a cool badass who took what she-

_Is that what you think of me?_

Emerald was startled from her thoughts in an _instant. _Stupid! Stupid, stupid Emerald! Of _course _Neo could read her face as well as she could read-

_It's true. I am a super-cool badass. I think it's sweet you think that, though._

Words weren't Emerald's strength right now, but, she realized, they didn't have to be. She didn't have to say anything, not that she, a blushing, stuttering mess, could, when Neo could just tell from the subtle movements of her face what she was _trying _to say. Which was a huge relief. Weiss and Ruby were talking about… something with frogs, didn't matter, but they were too involved in their conversation to notice anything weird going on with them. So she could just gaze into Neo's _gorgeously _heterochromatic eyes, their green and yellow- hold on a second!

_I didn't think it was fair if you were the only one who could change her appearance, _Neo replied with a silent, but somehow _musical _laugh.

But that might have been the wrong thing to hear. Because Emerald started thinking about how she could shift her own face, and that made her suddenly self-conscious about how much control she had over her face, and her facial muscles. The things that were communicating with Neo, but now that she was _thinking _about it, she wasn't sure what she was _doing _anymore, and instead of just making graceful, natural movements—or even the precise, prepared movements she'd been _trained _to do—Emerald could feel her face _droop _as she suddenly panicked. Nobody alive had the level of fine-motor control over her face that Emerald had. Nor did anyone also have the ability to shift their appearance at whim. Or were under the scrutiny of a master of face reading. Nor were they a _total nervous wreck _like Emerald was.

_Are you… are you okay?_

"I'mn fffine!" Emerald slurred, her cheeks drooping into jowls, her lips curling out of control, her adrenaline rising to heights never before- never before… seen…

Emerald's panic was caught off guard as Neo gently took her hand in hers. Looking at their hands on the table, Neo's creamy fingers entwined with Emerald's, she felt almost like time stopped. Like she had to remind herself to breathe to restart time and bring herself back to the ice cream parlor. And then she realized she had to tear her eyes off of Neo's hand to look up and see what she meant.

_Is this better?_

"M-much," she stammered, "I- I like this v-very much..."

But her words trailed off into silence as she gazed into Neo's eyes. It was… she was so unprepared for this, so inexperienced with this kind of thing, and Emerald was _never _unprepared, and yet… she wasn't worried at all. This was… this was nice. She liked it. This was what… life could be like if she-

"We should get cookies after this! What do you think, Emerald?" Weiss loudly interrupted and Emerald _cringed._

Sisters!

* * *

"Strawberry ice cream," Clover started, sounding professorial and officious as he began his lecture, "is the _pinnacle _of Valean culture, and I _cannot _understand how you can be in the heartlands of this manna from heaven, and yet… _chocolate."_

"Chocolate _with _brownie bits," Qrow corrected, taking a spoonful and tasting it, "Good stuff."

The ice cream parlor they were in had been selected by Emerald's date, who had a _striking _resemblance—though, certainly _just _a resemblance as far as Qrow was concerned—to the notorious henchman of a certain wanted criminal, and Qrow suspected that played as much a role in how easy it had been to secure the location as Summer throwing her weight around with the Council.

Her "resemblance," of course. As far as Qrow and Clover were concerned, there was no malign criminal influence at play here. Just an interesting-looking young woman who was doing her part to help out some kids in need at a time of crisis. She was, presumably, good people like that. Qrow wasn't asking questions how Ms. Fall happened to know her.

He gave a quick glance to the other table. Nothing really to report, just as he expected. It was cute, really, a reminder of happier times when he was a younger man, with the rest of STRQ, enjoying a carefree moment in the city, not thinking about the future, utterly unaware that they were all about to be torn apart by his sister's ego.

Qrow sighed. He didn't want to be thinking about Raven right now, but he kind of had to. There was too much on the line for him to take a breather, even now. Lowering his voice, he quietly asked Clover, "What's the word with my sister?"

Clover shook his head. "Nothing to report, to be honest. She's… hard to pin down, thanks to her Semblance, but we're… keeping her busy. Dummy work, through a decoy corp hiring her to do pointless, but time consuming, stuff. With a 50/50 shot she's figured out that we're playing her."

"And a 50/50 shot from there," Qrow added with a sardonic grin, "you've either pissed her off… or she'll have no objection to fleecing you for what she's worth and call it a vacation."

"Don't worry," Clover replied, rubbing one of his many lucky charms between his fingers, "Whatever she's thinking, Atlesian Intelligence is reasonably confident we have her managed enough that she's not in a position to launch a strike against the Prince or otherwise."

Talking with Blake about Raven had gotten the gears turning in Qrow's head, and he didn't like where that was leading him. There was good intelligence on who Queen Salem had for henchmen, some of whom were likely candidates for an assassination mission—like the disgraced Atlesian scientist Arthur Watts or the Faunus serial killer, Tyrian Callows—but it was also likely that Salem could make use of the same resources anyone else on Remnant would, and if they were looking for a contract killer… Raven was _frighteningly _good. The last time they'd met, Raven had beat Qrow's ass soundly, and really, back at Beacon, Summer was the only one who could really hold a candle to her. Who even _knew _what she was capable of now?

Most importantly, Raven had a _direct _line to Summer, Yang, or himself, and any line of security they might have could be easily undone by her opening a portal. Getting _out _wouldn't be easy, but… well, his dear sister was the sort who'd carry out crazy plans just _because _they were crazy.

"Well, if you think she's locked down," he said, in between taking another bite of ice cream, "I trust you guys on this. She's not… well," Qrow sighed, miserably, "I'd like to say she wouldn't do something like this, but..."

Clover gave a sad nod. "Hard to see how far your sister's fallen?"

"She used to be… hard to be _nostalgic _for the old days, but she used to have principles. Shitty ones, godawful ones, but there used to be more than money to her. It was about _family, _once. Independence. But she's all that's left of the Branwen Tribe now and… even I have a hard time seeing what's become of my old man's legacy."

Knowing a bit about fatherhood and disappointing legacy himself, Clover nodded at that. "No matter what, you always hate to disappoint 'em."

"Ain't that how it is..."

Qrow glanced back to the kids. No matter how bad Qrow's childhood had been, it didn't hold a candle to Emerald or Weiss over there. And Ruby… the daughter he never had, hers was a blessed childhood, raised by the sort of parents Qrow _wished _he'd have had. Even as much as she grumbled about spending the summers with her Aunt Maria for training, she grew up in a household full of love and support.

It was unbecoming of him to spend so much time comparing his life to teenagers, of course. So turning his mind away from the past, he brought it back to the future. Glancing to Clover, he grinned and asked, "Hey, you've been talking big, but how about you prove it—give me a taste of that strawberry ice cream."

Clover took up his spoon and scooped up a generous pink blob. He extended it across the table, and Qrow opened his mouth to receive it. Wrapping his lips around the spoon, he sucked the colt treat off of it. Licking his lips with a _smack, _he and Clover exchanged smiles. It was rare that they did this kind of couple stuff, but Qrow had to admit, it was pretty cute.

And he had to admit: it was delicious.

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**

**From a writing perspective, it's always hard for me to find Neo's "voice," considering she doesn't exactly have one in the show. She's got a clear _character, _but what she's "saying," outwardly or in an internal monologue, is always hard for me to write. Especially in contrast to Emerald, who, for this AU, I have a _very strong _sense of her voice.**

**And as we know, Raven's not actually part of the assassination conspiracy, but... that doesn't mean the scene was just dramatic irony. She might show up later. Or this might be misdirection. Who knows :)**

**Looking forward to next week's chapter, where you'll get to see how the _other _evening is going, with Jaune, Pyrrha, Blake, and Yang.**


	25. To Seek And To Find

The Chez Lafitte was by far the ritziest place Blake had ever dined at, but, considering the full length of places she'd dined at consisted of Mother's palace and Beacon Academy, that wasn't the most impressive list to top. Still… Blake had read so much about Valean dining culture, pouring over anything she could read and imagining over and over again in her head, both strategic and… well, there were certain scenes in her books that she always thought about with her and Jaune, the two of them-

No, _focus._ Blake was just struck by how different it was to be in a place compared to reading about a place. She knew every trick in restaurant decor and design and yet, experiencing it for the first time, she _still _found herself awed by the experience. A quiet, softly-lit and well-cushioned corner booth was acoustically and materially designed to make her feel like she was ensconced from the world, truly private even as uniformed staff, invisible but always at hand, swept in and out to ensure their needs were met. It felt truly private, safe, and... intimate.

Not to mention, she felt quite a bit different finally presenting herself as a high-society vixen instead of analytically approaching it. Her outfit was much more _restrained _than what Nora had began her in, but the memory of that slinky black dress left a tingle in Blake's core that hadn't gone away. And Coco's eye for fashion was undeniably effective—her outfit made Blake feel like she was a woman on the prowl, her looks as dangerous a weapon as her claws.

Especially when Yang arrived, her eyes _boggling _as, for once, the self-confident blonde was at a loss for words.

Yeah, Blake was killing it.

But they were at dinner now, and Blake still couldn't help but contrast how different this all felt from her imagination. Her romantic side, her ambitious side, her professional side, they had all pictured different dinners at classy restaurants, whether finally gazing into Jaune's eyes with undisguised adoration or unraveling a treasonous plot against their regime, but they weren't anything like this.

"-but that's when Fox said, 'could you imagine calling the Prince of the Grimm for bail?' And the whole group just _lost it-"_

"Yep," Yang laughed, "That's my favorite gang of morons."

"But the whole thing that started it," Jaune continued, struggling not to laugh, "Was that they were talking about how if they got in trouble, they'd call _Ren _before they called a lawyer!"

Blake laughed at the anecdote, like the rest of the table. She'd at least met Ren, though the rest of the group was only known to her in terms of intelligence—Team SSSN and Team CFVY were known factors for the Vytal. But she was happy that Jaune had found, well, _friends. _Maybe they didn't know him very much yet, but they were pretty open to being friendly with someone whose eyes glowed red with Grimm malice. Or… maybe Jaune won them over?

Blake was good at manipulation and analysis, but that meant she was only good at the _appearance _of social skills. When she had no agenda with Yang or Pyrrha or Jaune, she was, in truth, as socially awkward as Pyrrha, just better at hiding it. Much better, judging from how her sister's jaw seemed _clamped _shut, fidgeting a hesitant inch by hesitant inch closer to Jaune. But Jaune… Jaune was _smooth. _This was him in his element, where his kindness, his gentleness, and his willingness to reach out made him the perfect facilitator for the three of them. He was telling jokes and while Yang was obviously the life of the party, Jaune was the one making sure they were all involved and participating in the conversation. Case in point...

"Actually, Pyrrha, Blake, that reminds me… you got to meet the rest of Team CFVY that same night, are they anything like the other half of their team?"

"They, uh, mostly spoke to Emerald," Pyrrha blurted out, "b-but they seemed nice! Especially for being so welcoming to Emerald..."

"Yeah, Velvet's nice," Yang agreed with a sly smile, "But Coco is..."

"A lot like you?" Blake quipped.

But Yang smiled at the crack. "More than I'd like to admit. But I guess you'd have to meet Coco a little more to get the full experience."

Gesturing to her killer outfit, Blake smugly explained, "Who do you think got me ready for tonight?"

"You look really nice," Pyrrha said, quietly. And Blake realized that her aggression towards her sister earlier had been unwarranted. Yes, they were… "competing" over the same boy, but they'd literally _just_ had a talk about how their sisterhood came _first. _And looking at her sister, seeing where her armor plates poked out from under her red dress, the bone-white bracers on her arms… was she comparing herself to Blake's elegant, pale beauty? And Blake was just... Gods, she was a horrible sister, wasn't she?

"You look nice, too!" she said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice, "Jaune? Don't you think Pyrrha looks nice?"

Jaune blushed and stammered, making _Pyrrha _blush and stammer as Yang gave her a nudge with her elbow, "You knew you'd set 'em both off, didn't you?" she whispered.

"I can't imagine what you mean," Blake replied, "She just looks lovely tonight, and I felt I should comment on it."

"You're a lucky man, Jaune," Yang said, causing the other side of the table to blush even harder, "Though I'm sure _Neptune _probably told you that enough already."

Jaune tried to play it cool, but Blake could see the blush wasn't going away. She could also see that he was caught in a struggle between glancing at Pyrrha while not getting _caught _glancing at Pyrrha. Adorable, but... perhaps she prematurely judged him as _smooth._

"Okay, fun discussion topic," Yang said with a saucy grin, the kind that told Blake _be worried, _"Thing you're gonna remember most from your visit to Beacon, and no," she smirked, "You can't say, 'Meeting such a radiant blonde beauty as Yang' as your favorite memory!"

"I'd answer, but I'm afraid my favorite memory's classified," Jaune quipped with a casual ease that impressed the hell out of Blake. Good recovery, too! If he only had _this _energy while on Lavender's show...

"I'm sure we'll have a lot more memories to come, especially with the Festival," Pyrrha said, her cheer effervescent even with the remnant of her blush still on her face. "But I really liked going out into the forest with your team, Yang. It was good to… stretch my legs and show off a little." She gave Jaune a knowing glance. Blake understood it—they _lived _to demonstrate their talents for the brother's benefit, and much like Blake got her moment with the Lavender interview, Pyrrha had gotten hers in the Emerald Forest.

Yang and Pyrrha both looked to Blake, but she demurred politely, not inclined to giving up her secrets that easily. But then Jaune gave her an encouraging look that… made Blake _want _to open up. "Okay… I have to say, the thing I think I'm going to remember most from Beacon so far is Nora trying to dress me for this date-"

"Oh gods," Yang interrupted, in open horror.

Fluttering her eyelashes suggestively, Blake laughed, "Oh, I don't think you'd have _minded _the dress she had me in… or the corset."

That bit was aimed at Jaune as much as Yang, and Blake was pleased to see that her words got their desired reaction out of both of them. But what she _hadn't _expected was Pyrrha's response.

"Perhaps I should ask for Nora's help for our next date..."

There was a clear _deliberateness _in her words, the kind that shocked Blake to see Pyrrha use. Or at least, to see her use it _here. _Yang commented on how Jaune blushed, clearly imagining Pyrrha in a tarted-up outfit, but Blake was paying much more attention to how Pyrrha seemed to beam even as she blushed. Way to go, big sister!

But there wasn't time for admiration, not now. Yang had teased Jaune, and it was Blake's sworn duty to deliver her own _bon mots, _whether at Jaune's expense or in his defense… she'd play it by ear. She was… she was having fun. With her brother and her sister and her… friend. Yes, Blake figured, Yang was a friend.

She'd actually made a friend here at Beacon.

* * *

Ah, the life of the perpetual chaperone.

Glynda gave the cheerful foursome an idle glance, pleased to see that any intervention would be unnecessary. Not that she could do much to chide _royalty._ Though, frankly... she wasn't here as a chaperone, she was here as emergency response. The video she'd seen had rattled even her, who'd been observing the best tournament fighters in all of Remnant for _years,_ but Glynda trusted Ozpin and she trusted Summer. And… she trusted Yang. If they thought that the appropriate response was to ease off the stern discipline, Glynda could see reason.

So long as they didn't start trying to tell her how to run things at Beacon. No, Glynda knew how to teach and how to manage the Academy, and she would not budge on either. But this wasn't her class and wasn't under her purview as Deputy Headmistress, so she could afford a bit of a night off.

But if that counted at that… she looked back to her dinner companion, having just given her drink order to the uniformed waiter.

"A martini?" she raised an eyebrow at Ms. Fall archly, "That's Valean gin you're drinking—we mix our martinis a little stronger than you might be used to."

Ms. Fall, ever the professional, didn't rise to the bait. "And you?" she asked, "Campari? Hardly seems like I should expect the Deputy Headmistress of Beacon Academy to be drinking on a work matter."

"A work matter?" Glynda replied with a smile. They both knew that they were _long _past anything approaching business professionalism here. "I like an aperitif before dinner, something to clear my head and lighten the day a little. And besides, I like a stiff drink after a long day."

If any of her students knew that Glynda Goodwitch liked her liquor strong, she'd never hear the end of it, but she was confident nobody would be surprised if they heard it. Glynda did nothing in half-measures, drinking was no different from training was no different from preparing lesson plans. And she was a daughter of Vale—as she'd told Jimmy so many times, a stiff drink was just a beloved part of her heritage.

But with the waiter gone and the students behaving themselves, there was very little else to do now. Other than avoid appearing like the two of them were assessing each other, sizing the other up. Prying for _weaknesses _in the others façade. But… well, she could leave that to Qrow. If her dinner companion wanted to keep up her frosty glare, Glynda would have to be the one to let her know she wasn't going to play that game.

She chuckled. "Not two nights ago I 'enjoyed' dinner with Qrow Branwen and Winter Schnee. Believe me, Ms. Fall, you could not be a worse dinner conversationalist if you _tried."_

"Sounds like a wager," Ms. Fall shot back with a sly grin, "Are you a betting woman on top of your drinking, Ms. Goodwitch?"

"Oh no, don't start—I put up with Qrow and Amber placing bets on just about everything in sight just to take the boredom off. Speaking of," she leaned forward with a smirk, remembering a conversation she'd overheard the two of them have a while ago, "what exactly is the Prince's relationship with-"

Ms. Fall cut her off. "I thought of everyone on your side, you'd be the _least _interested in talking about the romantic life of teenagers."

"Oh, just wanted to settle a bet..."

While her poker face was impressive, Glynda saw that Ms. Fall rather clearly turned an angry shade of red at that. "I can assure you," she snapped, "the Prince and I have a purely professional-"

Glynda interrupted her with an airy laugh. "Come on now, someone of your experience should know I didn't mention anything about _you."_

"But you meant it," the dark-haired woman said with a glower.

Trying to wave off the ill will with an apologetic gesture, Glynda smiled. For how much hell this woman had put her through in the past weeks, she was glad to have a chance to put some heat on her. "It was Branwen, actually," she said, "Feel free to let him know your opinion on the matter."

"He might not _survive _my opinion on the matter..."

Glynda had an undignified laugh to that as their drinks arrived—she had to admit, the service here was _fast. _Not the sort of thing she enjoyed on an educator's salary, even for a school as prestigious as Beacon was.

"Still surprised to see you drinking."

"I'm off the clock," she smiled, sipping her drink. The bitterness was good, bracing. The sort of thing that cleared her palate before a meal. "So if you were expecting the dour, stuffy Deputy Headmistress, she punched out an hour and twenty minutes ago. Though, I have to say, I'm surprised you haven't clocked out yet."

Ms. Fall tensed. Personal conversations likely weren't her forte—or perhaps she hadn't had a chance to talk about her own well being in years. What life must be like under that monster's rule…

"I think you'll find it wiser to keep your mind focused. This isn't a place to let your guard down."

Glynda shook her head. "Someone I trust asked me to lend some trust towards those four, and looking at them," she glanced over, just in time to see Ms. Xiao Long bring everyone to laughter from some, likely inappropriate, joke, "I don't see a threat. Perhaps some mischief, but-"

"Isn't that _exactly _what someone would say to get my faction to lower our guard?"

Well, someone was touchy. But Glynda understood that.

"For Heaven's sake, not everything's a coded threat, Ms. Fall," Glynda took another sip of her drink, "I thought this might be a good time for the two of _us _to try to talk things out a little. We're not that different, you know—we're both the ones stuck scrambling to clean up the messes made by our leadership, to handle the nitty gritty and the paperwork that makes their grand visions possible. I would have thought for sure you'd have found some kind of release for yourself—you can't be the mastermind all the time, after all. It's not healthy."

"Consider who I work for," Ms. Fall responded dryly, "I'm surprised you think _that's _where my health is concerned."

A joke, even as terse a joke as that, was a relief to hear. Glynda chuckled a little at it. "I'll drink to that," she said, raising her glass appreciatively. "To the many, many dangers in our lives, may we ever stay at least one step ahead of them."

Ms. Fall paused a moment, but then, she raised her own glass. The two of them downed their drinks like Valeans, Glynda giving a proud smile to Ms. Fall for managing to take her gin as well as Glynda herself did. She might even have a bit more to drink tonight, open up a little, and try a little bit of a page from Yang's book.

When nobody in the world really knew what to do, well… maybe looking to the youth for inspiration wasn't the worst thing in the world.

* * *

Hard to believe things were going so well.

Yang had been given the heads up from mom that things had gotten… dicey after she had burst into her mom's office and begged them to help out. Exactly what had happened, she didn't know, but it couldn't have been _that _bad if Yang had been able to get approval this easily for two separate, simultaneous visits to Vale. And their escorts were _way _more lenient than she'd been expecting! Ms. Goodwitch didn't seem all that checked in on what they were doing, more interested in talking to Ms. Fall, and Ruby got to hang out with Weiss and Emerald with Uncle Qrow and Clover—who would _definitely _be paying a lot more attention to each other than what some teens were up to.

And she was damn glad for the privacy right now.

"I just think," Blake said, "that they have a point—Jaune's the Prince of the Grimm, there's no laws that _conceivably _bar him from drinking, so-"

"But the restaurant won't serve us," Jaune replied, blushing, "So it's a moot point."

Pyrrha cracked her knuckles and grinned. "Are you so sure? I get the feeling that they'd rather not have to explain to me why my brother _can't _order a..." her voice trailed off, clearly not knowing the names of any drinks.

"We're gonna order Strawberry Sunrises," Yang cut in, bailing Pyrrha out, "Not only are they the _tastiest _drinks you can get at a bar, I'd also _die _for the chance to threaten the place into making four _Strawberry Sunrises _under threat of global war!"

The three of them laughed at the mental picture, and, really, the fact that they could make _jokes _about the fact that the Grimm kids lived on the other side of _everything _Yang was raised to fight… well, it was really promising. Really promising.

Yang was a believer that you had to take risks on people. And that people were generally better than you thought they were. Deep down, most people were _good. _Even folks like the dinguses in Team CRDL, when the chips came down, even Cardin did the right thing. Sometimes, it took a lot more chips before he got the picture, but even a jackass like Winchester had _something _inside him that told him to work together and help others out. The people protesting Jaune and the Grimm kids, they were just _scared. _And once they could get past that fear, once they let the Grimm kids break out of their shells a little… Yang was confident they could figure something out. That _everyone _could be happy.

Though… maybe some kinds of happiness were both more imminent and more personal than she had expected so soon.

From the way Pyrrha and Jaune's arm seemed to fidget, it wasn't hard for Yang to realize that, out of their sight, beneath the table, the two of them were... holding hands.

How utterly _adorable._

From what Yang had learned from Blake, the Grimm kids were… stunted, to say the least. And while they were, biologically, as old as she was, they were all, in their own, various ways, not quite as mature as Yang and her peers were. Maybe a bit more like Ruby than Ruby would want Yang to claim, but that told her that the two of them holding hands was a _huge _deal. But it also made this a bit of a tricky situation to handle.

A glance to Blake, though, confirmed that Yang wasn't the only one to notice it. Hell, with how unsubtle the two of them were in their shy affection, Yang could probably count on the whole _restaurant _to have noticed it. But any worries she had about jealousy or anger were easily quashed: Blake looked as touched to see it as Yang was.

She really cared about her siblings. Enough to put her own happiness second to make sure they were doing well. Yang knew what that was like. They shared a moment of silent camaraderie, quietly acknowledging that they were on the same page here. She was a good sister, which was a major plus in Yang's book and, also, a _major _hottie, which was an even bigger plus.

It was a shame she and Blake didn't have a chance together, the girl was _clearly _smitten with Jaune, but Yang could, at least, enjoy the view a little while the four of them enjoyed each others' company over dinner.

Though that dinner option might be a little shorter than she had expected...

"Hey, um," Jaune blushed, "I have to, um, run to the restroom real quick?"

"Me too!" Pyrrha added, entirely too quickly.

How utterly adorable. Yang almost laughed at the bluntness of their escape. They were cute together, two dorks with unbearable expectations that neither fit very well. Yang felt that they could be real happy together. But she also felt that it wasn't fair to Blake to cut her out of the loop like that. Trying to help her "date" out a bit, she spoke up to-

"_Let them go," _Blake whispered in her ear. Yang froze her objection, and the two runaways (barely stifling their giggles) went off to the "restroom."

Yang turned, surprised at Blake's objection. "Wait are you-"

"I'm still _much _more into him than you," she said with a playful smirk. "But… I'd rather Pyrrha got her chance. Now, at least. "

"Okay, but… that implies you're at least a _little _into me, so can I just say how _hot _you look in that dress? Like, the absolute cat's me-_ow, _here, kitten's got-"

Blake punched her in the shoulder.

"You _had _a chance," Blake groaned, "but the cat stuff ruined it."

"You miss 100% of the shots you don't take!" she laughed back. "Also, if you think they're not coming back, you mind if I help myself to some of Pyrrha's entree?"

"Don't even think about it," Blake growled with vigor enough to remind Yang about the Grimm kids' whole food thing.

**I like writing things going cute and well in this story, give a bit of a breather from all the darkness. And it was fun to write a bit of Glynda's POV! Debated a lot of what kind of drink Glynda would prefer. I was thinking things like Grappa, something with a strongly acquired taste, or cognac, because she's a classy drinker. I settled on Campari because I see her as someone who'd like the bitterness as an aperitif, though I admit, my knowledge of mixed drinks is pretty limited.  
**

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**


	26. It Hits The Fan

Ruby was really trying her hardest to explain to Weiss that she couldn't date- that she didn't _want _to date Jaune! But it just wasn't _working!_

"You just told me he already _has_ a girlfriend!" Ruby hissed.

"So?" Weiss shrugged, "You could be his human girlfriend. They can be his sister girlfriends."

"That's not how that… works!"

"That's silly," Weiss said, "You're being silly."

Ugggggh, Mom was going to be _so mad _if she didn't come home from Beacon because she didn't know how to politely decline an invitation to move to the Grimmlands! She _really_ wasn't supposed to go to there! How many times had Nana Maria told her, her silver eyes were a _danger _to herself, that Salem _hated _her personally, and everyone like her, and now she was going to… move in? S-so she could date a boy?

E-even if he was… cute and… and so _nice, _the kind of guy who was _used _to being around people who had special powers and wouldn't act like she's creepy just because she liked Crescent so much. It wasn't fair! Boys as Signal thought she was weird because she was in an accelerated program, and boys at Beacon were either losers or taken or way too forward! Why did the first boy that she felt she could actually make a real connection with be her entire family's _mortal enemy?_

And he could make her a Princess! It wasn't _fair!_

Ruby grumbled to herself as she looked back to her ice cream. Unlimited free ice cream with Weiss had _sounded _super cool when Yang first told her about it, but now they were talking about boys and Ruby was very bad at that! Didn't Yang know how much Coco and Nora teased her about it?

Of course she did. Her sister was always looking for opportunities to make Ruby feel like she was a little kid. She was such a butt sometimes. Enough to even make ice cream not fun.

So instead, Ruby tried to focus on Emerald, who, unlike her, was an expert at being normal and cool while Ruby was just flailing. Man, she was chatting up Neo all cool and casual like, like a real grown up while Ruby was a mess of blustering about a boy she liked-

As a friend! She only… she just wanted to be friends with him. Nothing weird.

Ugh, Ruby _hated _how hard this was.

Especially with Neo. Ruby had fought Roman Torchwick twice already, and he was, technically, her nemesis, but that… that didn't mean _Neo _was her nemesis, too, right?

Because Ruby really liked Neo. She liked Neo and she liked Emerald, and Weiss had just _barely_ edged out Nora for her top Best Friend Forever spot, even if she was saying… crazy things, so Ruby really just wanted everyone to be friends here.

Friends. Just… friends. Normal friends with normal friend relationships. That would be good. Being a Silver-Eyed Warrior meant that she was set apart from others, like Mom always told her, but Mom also said that Ruby would have no problem making friends at Beacon. That she'd met _Dad_ at Beacon, and that was where they fell in love. Even though Mom thought they'd never get together, that it just couldn't happen between them, just like how Ruby was sure Jaune would never-

Nope, just gonna focus on ice cream! Focus on eating lots and lots of ice cream because it was free and tasted delicious and she was having fun with Weiss! Normal, best friend fun! With no boys!

It was really good stuff, and Ruby loved how, as soon as she finished her bowl, another bowl was there, like magic. She was so glad that Neo had recommended this place, though Ruby suspected they were getting VIP treatment. Probably something involving Roman, but… Ruby could overlook his dastardly crimes for one day. For Weiss's sake. Speaking of...

"Wow," she said to Weiss as she finished another bowl, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't know if I can _eat _any more ice cream!"

"Can't, _mmf, _talk," Weiss said in between spoonfuls, _"Mmmf,_ eating."

"Is that… okay?" she glanced to Emerald. Ruby knew that Yang usually intervened before she had too much sugar, and while most of the time she was just being a butt who just wanted to be in charge, even Ruby knew that this much ice cream meant she was going to be _wired _for the rest of the day… and then some.

Emerald just shrugged. "It's cool. Weiss and I just convert food into Grimmstuff. I mean, it doesn't have to be 'food,' but food tastes good and we like food, so… that's mostly what we eat." Then she pondered things for a moment. "Well, Jaune has to eat regular food, but that's just because he has a sensitive tummy. But Weiss just turns matter into Grimmstuff, and if she has too much, she'll just shunt it off as a Grimm."

"As a _Grimm?" _Ruby asked, shocked. "Is that going to-"

"Nah," Emerald shook her head, "It takes a whole lot of matter to become..." her voice trailed off as she looked over the considerable stack of empty bowls Weiss and Ruby had produced between the two of them.

Neo seemed absolutely _delighted _to see it, evidently coming to the same realization Ruby had just had, only she seemed to see it as _fun _rather than pure chaos.

"Weiss..." Emerald murmured, "h-how much did you eat?"

"Lots," she said, then burped… a loud, rumbling noise that didn't sound like something someone as small and delicate as Weiss could make!

"Weiss!" Emerald sternly complained, "I told you this would happen if you ate too much ice cream!"

Ruby was starting to realize that Emerald's annoyance was probably a sign of something _she _was used to that nobody else in Remnant was. "Wait… what are you talking-"

But she was cut off as, with a sudden, great _belch, _the black lines tracing Weiss's skin _pulsed _and she _slapped _her hand onto the table, where a Beowulf suddenly sprung to life!

Ruby lurched back. So did Neo.

And so did literally every other person in the ice cream parlor.

There was a scream. Probably several. The crowd _bolted _as Mr. Ebi struggled to restore order, but his shouting was easily drowned out in the panic as customers and employees raced for the exits.

The Beowulf just sat down on the table, a blank look on its face. If it wasn't… an _actual Grimm, _Ruby would dare say that it was actually… kind of cute? But then Emerald effortlessly scythed it down with a single strike from her _bare hand, _and the Beowulf disintegrated into black smoke.

Weiss didn't seem put out that her creation had been killed. "Thanks, Em," she mumbled, embarrassed, as the only other sound in the ice cream parlor was a bowl still spinning on the table, a testament to how quickly the place emptied of all but the four of them and their chaperones.

* * *

Jaune had never really imagined that dashing out of the restaurant, escaping their chaperones, and laughing together as they did it could be so much fun! He and Pyrrha burst out of the restaurant's back door into an alleyway—it was a reckless move, anyone who came across them would know, for sure, that they weren't human—but he didn't care. Nor did she. Sure, Jaune's eyes and Pyrrha's body gave them away, but their heightened Grimm senses told them they were alone here. Alone to… talk. About things.

The brimming confidence that Jaune had in the restaurant suddenly evaporated once he felt the cool night air. Back inside, with Blake and Yang, he was in the zone, surrounded by people he knew in an emotionally easy space. Keep things light, pleasant. That was something Jaune could _do. _But now, he was in the back alley, alone, with a woman who desired so much from him...

And he desired so much in return.

But while Jaune's courage waned, Pyrrha's waxed. She saw the look on her face and he could tell she wasn't going to lose another opportunity here. She grabbed his hands and pulled him close, her face, her eyes, her _lips_ just inches away from him as Jaune, just as he did the last time he was confronted with love.

He trembled to look at her, caught between fear and desire, pulled apart by two poles as he struggled to settle _something _in his mind, in his soul, in his _gut _sufficient to make a decision. But just like that last time, beholding her and Blake's bodies and realizing that they were _beautiful _and that his own awakened desire was upon them... he froze. Uncertain. Lost.

Pyrrha looked at him, her eyes piercing any attempt to hide his thoughts. "Whatever you choose, Jaune…" she said, her voice a forceful whisper, "I'm not going to stop loving you. I'll _never _stop loving you."

"Pyrrha..."

"It's true. You… you're my _hero, _Jaune. You're the only one… the only one I've _ever _felt this for. The only one I'll ever feel this for. You're where I feel safe, where I feel _loved, _and I- Even if you don't feel that way for me, I will _always _feel that way for you."

He had never felt so small before, so _unworthy. _His whole life was about his sisters, keeping them safe, protecting them from Mother, but to… to _receive _something in exchange for it felt so deeply perverse. Like it would break everything if he accepted her feelings for him. He just… wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.

"Maybe..." his words were hesitant and uncertain as he thought of his time in the Headmaster's office, when he first returned the sword. "Maybe in another world, maybe there was a time when we _didn't _get taken by Mother. In that world, maybe we would meet, maybe even… maybe at Beacon, and in that world… we could be very happy."

Profound grief came across him to imagine this other world, to think of the Jaune and Pyrrha there, Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos, students together. Maybe they'd cross paths or study together, even be on a team together. And maybe they'd find each other just as Jaune found Pyrrha now. The two of them falling in love without the threat of Mother hanging over their heads. The two of them being _free._

"But we're not _in_ that world," Pyrrha said, cutting off his fantasy, "We're in this one and I _know _you have feelings for me, just like I do for you, and I _know_ we can be happy if we just tried!"

"You don't… you don't understand," Jaune lamely suggested.

"Then tell me!" she demanded, "Don't shut me out, _please, _Jaune, just try and tell me!"

"It's like..." he struggled to articulate himself, to marshal his words in the moment, "It's like I'm... on the side of a cliff. And I have to either climb up or climb down, but I just know… I know that if I take a wrong step, it'll crumble underneath me and I'll fall. I feel like I have to keep… perfectly still, and if I ever slip up in the _slightest _way, it'll all..."

"It'll all fall apart..." Pyrrha completed the thought.

"Yeah..."

They sat in morose silence for a moment.

"I don't accept that answer."

"What?"

Pyrrha looked Jaune square in the eye, a look that reminded him that as much as he was his sister, his beloved sister, she was also the Eagle. "I _don't,_" she said with force enough to make Jaune almost step back, "That's not- that's not _you. _You're not the one to hide from danger—you're the one who stands up to Mother, _you're _the one who fought Yang, and _you're _the one who believed in taking a risk and making this whole trip as a diplomatic outreach—you fought _me _on that. And if you think after all the head-to-head arguing we had over that, that I'm going to accept that you're too _afraid _now… I don't buy it. I know you, Jaune. You think you can get away with not telling me your feelings because you think I'm not going to push you, but I'm not. I'm not letting you. You're answering me. Tonight. Now."

Jaune stared at her. In all his life, he'd never seen Pyrrha like this, so… forceful. And… and she had a point. He wasn't being honest here, he wasn't…

A powerful tremor of dread came across Jaune as he unlocked something deep within his core that he could finally open up about. With a choked moan, Jaune finally came clean. "A-all my life, love m-meant… it meant _pain, _Pyrrha. Pain. I l-loved you, all of you so much that I was… was able to face Mother. And she m-made me pay for it, every… every time."

Pyrrha's eyes, alight with sympathetic grief, gazed into his. He didn't want to tell her this, he _never _wanted any of his siblings to find out, but he couldn't stop talking. Years of bottled up fears couldn't be stopped now.

"And when you and B-Blake approached me, all I could think… all I could think was… was that this wasn't… I was scared. I was scared of what would happen. I- I… Love is _pain, _Pyrrha, and I was _afraid _of what would-"

He wasn't expecting Pyrrha to throw her arms around him and pull him close. But while startled, Jaune had to admit that this was… nice. Pyrrha was strong, stronger than anyone he knew, and enveloped in her arms, he felt… safe. Safe enough to finally break down, to let the tears flow down his face as he slumped forward, his legs giving way, to be held in his sister's arms.

She'd seen him cry. Seen him lose his composure in terror and fear, every time he was dragged forth from the Hole. But this time, Jaune was showing a weakness he never showed, something he never even acknowledged: the fear of his own selfishness, that he might break, that he might _betray _his sisters. It was a fear inside him that bloomed like rot in dark places, every mindless fear he'd tried to banish from his mind was now exposed.

But in Pyrrha's arms… he could admit it. He could be weak. He could admit his darkest fears and _grieve _what they'd experienced together.

Pyrrha held him close and whispered in his ear. "You've never failed us. _Ever._ I love you, Jaune, because you've always been our protector, but Jaune… let me protect you now. Let _me_ hold you, let _me_ keep you safe. Please..."

All he could do was accept. Awash in grace, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, feeling her body against his, the faint _hum _of her Grimmstuff and the _thump _of her heartbeat, the familiar Darkness within her and… and something that made the Light Inside glow within him. Not a brilliant flame like it was against the Darkness of The Hole, but a calming light. A soothing light. Something like love, within them both. A connection forged on a level Jaune didn't understand, but could feel it stronger than steel.

And so Jaune made up his mind.

Swooping forward, he caught Pyrrha, the peerless warrior, utterly by surprise as he kissed her, gently, on the lips.

For a moment, they help there, the two of them enfolded in the moment. Both too shocked, too uncertain to do more except feel their lips against the other's.

Then Pyrrha kissed him back. And Jaune kissed her back. And they returned it, again and again, reflecting their feelings from one to the other, something joyful and life-affirming and they were laughing, laughing together as they kissed and held each other. It was… it was madness, but a good kind, the kind where all their years of emotions were no longer held in stasis, the two of them sharing a love that had long boiled under the surface.

There were no certainties in their lives. They were instruments of war and destruction and conquest, and the Darkness within them was as surely present as Mother's voice reminding them of her true _purpose, _but right now… right now, neither Pyrrha nor Jaune paid no heed to those things.

There was no Prince or Eagle present here. No Grimm power, no arcane Darkness. Just a boy and a girl, in each other's arms. And they were very, very happy.

* * *

She was a sweet kid.

Neo felt she could really come to like Emerald, but… she'd long since learned that there were people who were cut from the criminal cloth and there were people who'd wound up in the life, astray from their other calling. And trying to pretend that one was the other was only the way to tragedy and a wasted life. Even if it had been a fun date (especially with the Grimm at the end!), Neo could see where there was and wasn't a future here.

Simply put: Emerald wasn't cut from the criminal cloth.

In Neo's mind, that was a good thing. Honestly, a _great _thing. The kid had skills that would _easily _let her rise to the top of the criminal underworld, but she didn't have the mindset that would let her _enjoy _it. And for Neo, if you weren't enjoying it, what was even the point?

But as the two of them were sitting together as a team of Huntsmen checked the location, some of them even dressed up in Hazardous Environment Suits (she had to admit, they looked pretty cool and scifi—she'd have to nick one on her way out, though they might not come in her size), Neo felt it was time she and Emerald had a talk.

_Hey, Em?_

Emerald blinked, evidently jolted from her thoughts. "Oh, uhh… what is it, Neo?"

_That was real cool what happened in there._

"W-what, _really? _You don't- you don't-"

_Clearing the place out like that? That was cool as hell!_

Emerald blushed from the compliment. She was young and inexperienced, clearly unfamiliar with receiving positive attention in such a manner. Neo normally wouldn't mind being the one to guide her into the larger world of criminal conspiracy and larcenous plotting, mentoring her and taking her under her wing. A promising talent, and, more importantly, someone Neo liked? She had everything she really needed, didn't she?

But… no, Roman was right: Emerald needed someone who wasn't her or even _like _her to grow as a person. And Neo was the sort of person who, if she saw that something had no future, she wasn't gonna flail around, denying the reality staring her in the face. Better to be quick about it.

_So… I hope you had a good time tonight._

"I- I really did!" she said, with the sort of aching sincerity Neo didn't hear in the criminal underworld. Like, ever. "I'm so sorry that my sister completely _ruined _it, and-"

_Your sister didn't ruin anything._

"Oh!" Emerald seemed to brighten a bit at that, "Well, that's- that's good to hear."

_But…_

"Oh no..."

Emerald gave her a fake, sympathetic smile. "I mean, I get it, I'm not exactly the best at-"

_You didn't ruin anything either._

"Then what… what was it?" she asked, with a needy insistence, "W-was it Qrow? I swear, he's a good guy he-"

Gods, she was too innocent for words. Far too much of a sweetheart.

_It's not anyone. Just… You and me, it just can't work out. We're from two different worlds, and-_

"Because I'm a Grimm?" she interrupted, "Neo, please, I know I-"

_Cause you're not an assassin. _

Emerald froze at that. Then the words came tumbling out of her mouth, less said than regurgitated. "But I'm… I'm the Shrike. I'm my brother's justice and-"

Neo cut her off with a look. _You've got a lot of skills and you'd make a damn good assassin if you put yourself to it, but you shouldn't. There's so much more you can be, Emerald, and if you stick around me… you're not going to be that. And I can't let that happen. The world needs good people, Emerald. People who aren't marks or thieves, people who aren't bullies or victims. And that's what you are. A good person._

Emerald blinked, absorbing Neo's words.

"I… I guess… okay. I… thank you for telling me," she said, glumly.

There wasn't a lot to be happy about in breaking her heart like that, but Neo knew this was for the best. Neo loved her life, but knew how much unhappiness was in it and how much… how much it took from her. Emerald was someone better off with anyone _but _her.

But she didn't want to leave the girl without something to show for her first date. Well, typically, Neo didn't end a date before having a _whole lot more, _but Emerald was just… a little too innocent for what Neo was used to. Leaning forward, she kissed Emerald on the cheek, seeing the girl's eyes hang wide open, frozen in shock, even after Neo drew back from the kiss and opened her eyes. She was a _cute _one, wasn't she?

But when Neo was about to make her exit when she suddenly felt Emerald's hand on her. Neo was about to turn, until she was suddenly jerked over to Emerald who now caught _her _off guard with a sudden, unexpected kiss, right on the lips.

With all her various lovers and flings and paramours, Neo had been kissed very many times. By men and women, some skilled, some inexperienced, some just arrogantly fumbling their way through it, but she had _never _been kissed like this before. She held the other girl in her arms, felt the sensation on her lips shift from passionate closeness to a gentle feather-touch, something pure and delicate and, alas, temporary.

Neo was the one to break the kiss. She couldn't put that on Emerald. She withdrew and found herself smiling in a way she wasn't sure she had done in a long time. Maybe ever. A smile that was genuine and honest and… small. But in a way that made it all the more precious and bittersweet.

Still feeling the kiss on her lips, Neo hopped up and made her way out. It wasn't… this place wasn't for her. It wasn't just that Emerald wasn't like her… she wasn't like Emerald. Neo had made her choices in life, had established who she was—all she could do was lead the girl down a dark path she'd never forgive herself for. It was a pleasant meeting, a rather... enjoyable date, even if it wasn't like her _usual _approach. But... that was all it could be. All it should _ever_ be.

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**

**Writing the date scene really evolved a lot from the original outline, but even if it was a challenge to finish it, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out! Even though, man, I feel so much for Emerald in this. But I'm really happy with Pyrrha's scene. She's been a key character since Chapter 1, but she's mostly been a stiff, reserved character, who doesn't actually drive that much of the plot. But ever since her fight with Emerald, Pyrrha's become increasingly more active, something that'll continue especially into the next Act.  
**


	27. The Exponent of Breath

Blake checked her face in the mirror.

This week had been… the most incredibly stressful point of her life. She had been… utterly broken down, completely humiliated on _every _level, and yet… she had to admit, she kind of did feel a little better, having gone through it.

She had seen Jaune kiss Pyrrha, and she felt… happy to see it. She knew they were good for each other. She knew they'd take care of each other, and they would make each other happy. Even if she… wasn't the most important woman in Jaune's life, she also knew that he _did _love her, loved her in a way that meant _everything _to Blake.

Things were… looking up. And she looked happy. Being so skilled in the arts of subtlety and misdirection, sometimes it was hard for even her to get a good read on herself, but there was no denying it. Happiness. Contentment.

It was all right there.

There was a sweetness in her heart as she moved away from the mirror and started readying her briefing for Jaune. Just the quick facts—this wasn't going to be a tense or contested meeting. Really, just a meet-and-greet, where Jaune would sit down with the Chieftain of Menagerie and reassure them that he meant the best for the world, just as Blake had primed them to expect from him.

Her biological parents had, sadly, proven to be rather easy marks. They wanted to believe in the best in the world, so they swallowed everything she told them, only—and Blake almost had to laugh at it—it was kind of true now. She _wasn't _out to undermine them, she _was _basically just a teenage girl who'd gone through a horrible circumstance. That was… what she'd tried to present herself as when they saw her for the first time in fifteen years, but, in this meeting today, that's who she'd actually be.

When Blake first came to Beacon, she had thought this meeting would be her coup de grace, her finest moment to demonstrate to her brother how _useful _she was as she turned the ruling family of Menagerie into their staunch allies. But now it felt… it didn't feel as _important _anymore. Things were better now. She had what she wanted and… she had enough.

Stepping over to Jaune, she passed him his notes as he fiddled with his cape.

"You really don't have to wear that anymore, you know," she told him.

Jaune grumbled, "I've- I've almost figured it out, and I'm not giving up when I'm _so- close to- _ah, dammit."

"Here, let me help," Blake said as she reached over and righted the cape, making sure her brother cut a heroic figure as she straightened it out and tied it properly.

Adjusting the cape a little to make it comfortable, he ruffled his shoulders and… Blake had to admit, he cut a striking figure. Handsome, youthful, but still conveying that tremendous _power _that came with being Prince of the Grimm, with those _piercing _eyes unlike anyone else in the world's, Jaune would definitely make an impression in today's meetings. And… moreso, he was making a strong impression on Blake.

There was something… something _romantic _about all this. In another time, another world, this scene, straightening out Jaune's clothes before she introduced him to her parents, would be a major step in a relationship. He'd be nervous, and she'd be reassuring him that they'd love him as much as she did. How many times had she read some variation on that?

It was a nice thought, but… Blake knew that was a nice thought for _another _Blake. She didn't want that life, not at the expense of what she had now, with her siblings. He would always be the most important man in her life, and she knew she'd always be with him, but she cared for her sisters as well. She knew what happened the night before with him and Pyrrha. They _should _be happy, and Blake… Blake valued their happiness more than anything. Even more than her own.

"Let's get going," Jaune said with a cheerful smile, offering Blake his hand.

Taking his hand in hers, Blake was struck by a feeling of supreme serenity and peace, a sense of _belonging _that made her feel that everything was going to be okay. That she would always have a place in his heart. Gripping his hand tightly, she followed his lead as they headed to their meeting.

* * *

Winter strode across the bridge of the flagship, letting the men know to go to at ease as she stepped forward to look down upon the city of Vale. A shining jewel between the ocean and the mountains, poking through the thick forests of Vale… she'd come here as a little girl, before her mother… her father had hoped it would give the family something to take their mind off of things, as though they could just... move on.

It had all seemed so _grand _back then. So breathtaking and historic and chic and overwhelming. But now, it looked like nothing more than a lovely seaside city. So much was happening, so much was changing, and yet, from the skies… it seemed peaceful out there.

But peace was often deceptive.

Right now, there was an evil in this land, an evil masquerading as a young man. Who thought that he had fooled them all, proving contrition and sincerity. Who surely thought that they had given up their defenses after last night's excursion.

Tricking a foe into lowering their guard sometimes had the unintended side effect of giving them a glimpse of _exactly _what you wanted from them. Sometimes what you didn't want them to see. A lesson learned in fencing, but true in politics and war. Pretend to fall for the feint to see what your enemy _wants _you to think.

Letting the Prince "get away" with whatever he was planning, let him and the other stolen children run about in Vale was to set them up to not see what was coming. But that gave Winter a peek into their lives, and what she saw…

What she saw was a pack of undisciplined, unruly _children._

And nothing made her doubt her cause more than that.

It was the worst paradox in the world—hearing that Weiss was… was more than just a monster, that she was injured, badly scarred by her experiences but still _human _meant the entire world to Winter. She was so close to having her sister back, so very close. And she feared to even _think _it for the way it made her heart ache with longing.

But at the same time… if she was _happy, _now, then… then she could be reached...

Memories of that _awful _day, of seeing the lights flash and the horrifying dark _forms_ that emerged from her sister's body like a nightmarish _cancer _put a stop to those thoughts. She had thought that she was still Weiss back then, and she'd learned… learned that she couldn't be saved so long as the _Grimm _had her. Winter _would _save her sister, this plan would work. It had to.

Because Kali believed in it.

Winter remembered her mother's funeral. Having to be strong for Father and Whitley, to try and present a front where everything was okay while she knew how _deeply _it wasn't. She was barely old enough to grasp what was going on and the burden of holding her family together was thrust upon her shoulders. It felt like she was being crushed and torn apart at the same time, like her body was liable to break and her mind was liable to snap, but she just _had to hold it together _until… she couldn't.

But that was when Kali had been there. She would _never _forget how Kali and Ghira, once their family's greatest foes, both grieving their own loss, had stepped forward to help them in their time of greatest need. At the funeral, when she needed a mother most, Kali had been the one to usher her to a side room and _held _Winter to her breast as she sobbed and sobbed, like there was no end to her grief. Feeling the flow of tears that came from the same great wellspring of grief that had dragged her mother down to the grave and feeling the same _pull._

If it wasn't for the Belladonnas… if it wasn't for them, her father would have followed her mother into the grave. So would Winter. And what would be left for Whitley?

In all her time in Atlas, meeting people of unquestionable character and iron virtue, men and women of such incredible loyalty in character, people like Clover, Harriet, General Ironwood, _Fria… _and yet, even amongst them, Ghira and Kali Belladonna, activists who stood against unthinkable odds and impossible challenges, parents who _sheltered her at her weakest… _they loomed larger than life.

She trusted them more than anyone else. They were her bedrock, and even now, in her darkest hour, the thought of them brought her comfort and resolution. In a world of international espionage and high stakes operations, with thousands, if not millions, of lives on the line, Winter _needed _someone she could trust. Someone like the Belladonnas.

Glancing towards far-off Beacon, she knew it was out of her hands now. She only hoped that this was, truly, for the best.

That she could get her sister back.

* * *

Idly flipping through her notes, Summer had to admit, things seemed to be going well. Yes, there'd been an incident at that ice cream parlor that necessitated Ozpin pulling a few strings to keep the story from getting out—a little unsettling how naturally Ozpin took to executing a coverup—but everything else had gone so well even _Qrow _wasn't cynical. He'd even cracked a joke about it, ruffling Ruby's hair and talking up how well everything had been. And Ruby just… blushed, in the way that a mother simply _understood _wasn't to be asked about. Glynda's report had been equally optimistic, even, by the Deputy Headmistress's standards, _glowing._ The evening in Vale had, to Summer's assessment, taken them from a position of extreme instability to something more like… their usual state of crisis. But she was good at managing that by now, and it really did mean she could finally breathe.

More importantly, it showed that situations were _recoverable. _Yes, the kids weren't like other kids, and that meant that there were elements of risk on all sides here, but bad things didn't mean an unstoppable slide into disaster. They had methods of establishing dialogue and restoring things to a better state. Glynda had even made a bit of a breakthrough with the eternally frosty Ms. Fall, Yang had forged deeper connections with Jaune, Pyrrha, and Blake (mercifully, not _that _deep—Summer was still unsure if she wanted her daughter _dating _into the Grimm, boys or girls), and Ruby had even managed to break out of her shell a little and have a good time. Even with the incident, it meant the _world _to Summer that her precious Ruby had made a friend. All in all, it had been an incredible turnaround.

A meeting between the Belladonnas with Jaune and Blake was basically the capstone on it. They had been _lifesavers _in the background. After Parents Night, they'd set up in Vale at the Menagerie Embassy and helped calm down tensions enormously. The White Fang was wary to act with such paragons of the movement being present in Vale, though, Summer had to admit, it didn't seem like the White Fang _had _a position on the claimed. Either way, they were the only group where the meeting had been unambiguously positive, no crises, no matters of concern, just parents reunited with their child. And since then, Blake had shown _enormous _growth in the past few days, which, with everything else, meant that Summer could feel confident for this meeting. She could even go as far to say things were really starting to feel like they were going well.

As the Chieftain and his wife swept into the room, Summer greeted them with a respectful bow. They looked impressive, dressed in their stately robes and projecting the sort of graying authority of activists who'd turned heads of state. They had _gravitas, _and Summer appreciated them for being such a calming presence in Vale.

"Director Rose," Mrs. Belladonna began kindly, "I'm so glad to see you again, and on such a beautiful day."

"The pleasure is all mine," Summer responded, "And I can tell you that your daughter and Jaune are _very _much looking forward to this meeting. Though, before we begin, we do need to perform a quick security search-"

Summer realized that, suddenly, her optimism was meeting it's inevitable fate as the Belladonnas looked at her with sudden, aggrieved refusal. "What do you mean?" Mrs. Belladonna asked, in the feigned confusion of someone who already knew what outcome she wanted.

Oh, this was going to be a problem, wasn't it?

Putting on her most neutral and diplomatic smile, Summer attempted to mediate the situation. "It's just a simple precaution we've been taking on account of the-"

"We are Heads of State," Chieftain Belladonna growled, and while Summer knew not to be intimidated by the bigger man, she also knew not to get drawn into a pissing contest with the Chieftain of Menagerie over a procedural issue.

"It's standard procedure," she said through gritted teeth.

"I went through the metal detector," Mrs. Belladonna replied with clear annoyance. "We are the First Family of Menagerie, and we expect to be treated no less than the leaders of any Kingdom, or, I should say, any _human _Kingdom. Not as criminals."

Hell.

Summer had voiced this concern to Ozpin back _before _they learned anything about the claimed, but neither she nor Qrow nor Amber were equipped for statecraft. These thorny situations required people who knew how to massage the expectations of VIPs, especially when these VIPs were tied up in matters of international diplomacy. And the time taken to argue this point would me a _schedule delay, _and Summer knew that was _bad news._

She just knew enough to perform the mental calculus to see which option would probably hurt her the least. The Committee was held together by a thread. The Belladonnas' support was a huge help in restoring normalcy and keeping the situation from being handed over to the Council (which would mean handing it over to _Atlas)._ But more so, a good breakthrough with one of the families would mean the _world _to Blake and Jaune. They could invite the Arcs, or even the Nikoses, for another visit if this worked out, and that… that was worth the risk. For the kids, she could swallow her pride.

"You can go through," she conceded, her good mood wholly ruined.

Discretion was the better part of valor, she reminded herself. Discretion was the better part of valor.

* * *

Jaune had had a lot of things on his mind recently.

But most importantly was the feeling of Pyrrha's lips on his, the kiss she gave him that night. He was still _reeling _from it, from the sensation of… of _everything._

There was just something inside him, something _exhilarating, _and Jaune just… just wanted to blurt it out to someone! Anyone! To just tell the whole world entire what he was feeling right now, once he found a way to put it into words.

But at the same time...

He had finally accepted that Pyrrha was in love with him and felt that he could offer her love in return, but that just brought more attention to the fact that _Blake _was in love with him as well. She'd… relinquished her claim on him to Pyrrha, or something like that, but Jaune was not going to leave his sister behind. But that made him feel uncertain, greedy, to have two women he was supposed to love equally. It was difficult enough to open his heart so fully for _one, _now he had to find a way to open his heart as fully as he could for both of them.

But he had to do it, and do it right. It was what Pyrrha and Blake deserved. What all his sisters deserved.

But the time had come for the meeting with the Belladonnas. He gave Blake a warm smile, and received one in return, as Cinder got the door and ushered them into the room where Mr. and Mrs. Belladonna were already waiting for them.

"My baby!" Kali Belladonna cried out in happiness as soon as she saw them, rushing forward to wrap Blake in a tight hug.

It was a touching scene, the kind that made Jaune feel a stab of guilt to see it. While he was taken along with Blake as a child and could hold no blame for their circumstances, he was now the Prince of the Grimm, Mother's heir, the public face of this theft, and that meant he inherited responsibility for how much harm their taking had left across the world. But he had little time to think about it as Ghira Belladonna swept across the room, extending a massive hand towards Jaune.

"Your Grace," he said with a rumble in his voice.

Jaune took the Chieftain's hand. "Just… Jaune is fine, Chieftain Belladonna," he said with all the reverence due to his station.

The Chieftain smiled as he crushed Jaune's hand in his powerful grip. "Very well then, Jaune—and you can call me Ghira."

"It's an honor to meet with you," Jaune choked out, trying not to reveal just how tightly Ghira was crushing his hand.

Fortunately, Ghira released him swiftly after that, as did Kali from Blake. Mrs. Rose smiled to see them and Jaune smiled, bashfully, at her, remembering how much Yang had encouraged them last night. The Roses were such an incredible family; out of everyone who he might have encountered on this visit, he was very lucky to have met them.

But he was also grateful for the Belladonnas. Jaune was acutely aware of how much Emerald and Weiss had suffered in their meeting with their original parents, an _ache _that still cut deep in his heart, even now, but Blake's parents… they loved their daughter. No matter what had happened, she was still their daughter, still someone they were _delighted _to see. It was something that made him happier than they could ever imagine.

And it made him think of his own original family. Something… Jaune didn't like thinking about.

So he turned his focus back to the Belladonnas. Blake had given him a good and thorough briefing, even if this was just a social meeting, but Jaune knew that these meetings had key implications for the future of Remnant and the Grimmlands. For all of them, really. Even more than Blake, Jaune saw the opportunity here. With the Belladonnas, Jaune had _proof _that a Kingdom of Remnant, even if not officially one of the "Kingdoms," was able to make a connection with them. It was something he could present to Mother when he returned, leverage for his claim that conquest _wasn't _necessary.

Jaune knew that Mother would never accept anything other than dominion, he knew enough of who she was to know that peace was not something she'd accept. But Jaune also knew that she _hated _to lose face. And invading after Jaune had successfully forged diplomatic connections in Remnant would do exactly that. It wasn't much, but it'd buy time, time he could capitalize on with his sisters now much more united to not only his authority, but his way of thinking. The connection's they had made in Vale, with Yang and Qrow and Ruby and everyone, those would be too strong for them to easily go along with Mother's plan. Especially once she had to _undo_ those connections in order to begin her war. And the five of them, together, might be enough to make Mother see things their way.

He knew it had been a long shot when he first headed to Vale. An impossible fantasy. But now, with everything that had happened... it all seemed possible. Everything seemed possible.

"Ghira, Kali," he began, warmly, "I... I thank you for taking the time for us to talk. It means a lot to me, and to Blake," he gestured to his sister, her smile as warm and genuine as Jaune had ever seen it, "that in spite of everything, we still have connections in Remnant. It means so much to us."

Ghira smiled, and Jaune couldn't help but be touched by the big man's clear fatherly affection. It was more than luck that had gotten him this far. It was the help of countless good people in Remnant, and Jaune owed them _everything._

"It's such a lovely day outside," Kali said, clapping her hands together in exuberance, "I was hoping the four of us could take a walk through the gardens? And don't worry, I've already had our security detail check our route."

"Some of the finest sons and daughters of Menagerie," her husband chimed in.

Jaune glanced to Blake and Cinder, who seemed… apprehensive. But not enough to voice an objection. "It sounds lovely," he said, and he meant it. "Please, lead the way."

As they walked, Ghira spoke of the great cultural gains the Faunus had made in the past 15 years, with Menagerie growing hearty and strong, defying the supposed desolateness of their continent. Jaune, though, could read the subtext of his message. _With the Grimm reduced _they were able to expand. _Without the Grimm threat, _they could build the irrigation works that fed their growing nation. _With the peace you, Prince Jaune, must maintain _they had created an oasis of hope for Faunus around the world. It was a weighty charge, but… Jaune knew that it was too important for him to lose faith now. And… Kali kept "subtly" suggesting that Blake might make a visit there one day. On that topic, Jaune knew he'd move the continents themselves, even face _Mother, _to make sure that Blake would get that chance to see her homeland.

Stepping into the Beacon gardens, Jaune admired how impressive it all was. Everything was green and colorful and blooming with life. It was the antithesis of the Grimmlands, where everything was dark and red and purple. Here was the sunshine and sweet scent of flowers perfuming the air. It took his mind of the weightiness of Ghira's talk, and gave him a sense of _confidence, _a sense that, knowing that there were beautiful places like this in Remnant, he had the drive to succeed.

Jaune noticed that they weren't the only ones in the garden. There was a group of Menagerie guards talking to a repairman as he showed them his credentials—must have been a mixup with the times, what with Ghira changing the schedules, but-

"That man," Blake hissed in his ear, "he's not supposed to be here. He's _not _staff."

Cinder's eyes narrowed. Cautiously, she stepped forward. "Sir..." she said, looking at the presumed staff member, "Exit the gardens immediately and present your identification to-"

The man's eyes darkened. A blade flashed, where, from his cart? Not time to think—time slowed down to frames of motion as he fluidly surged forward, even faster than Cinder could react, her weapon _too slow _in her hand as Jaune found himself flat-footed. All time collapsed into a moment, all sight collapsed to the _blade _streaking forward.

This was- this was it, wasn't it? How many times had he known that this was inevit-

But he wasn't the only one moving. A cloud of black smoke snapped forward, all around him, and suddenly, Blake was behind the man. Teeth flashing, Jaune didn't have time to say a _word._

A _slice, _a bite, a spray of blood. She drained the man dry in the time it took Jaune to blink, and he was surely dead. Horror surged in Jaune's throat, not just to see a man die, but to realize… Blake had killed a man _in front of her original parents! _Jaune whirled to see them, but-

Already before him, Kali Belladonna was _right there, _when did she get there- knife in her hand- what? How did-

In a single, fluid strike, Jaune suddenly felt the air get pulled out of his lungs as a sudden _spray _of black blood _burst _from his throat, Kali's knife effortlessly opening up his neck as he staggered and crumpled, vision going dark, time no longer making sense and then-

The _scream._

A scream of horror, of rage, of pure, unspeakable _pain _as Blake _shrieked _as she saw his wound.

She _flew _across the room, _slamming _Kali to the floor, no attempt to hide her tail or her claws, striking her own _mother_ _again and again, _screaming like a _beast _as she ruthlessly beat her against the floor.

Blake was going to kill her own mother.

Jaune couldn't- couldn't allow- not the guilt. He was dying, dying, but death came _slow, _just as the Pool had _promised _him, and he had to- had to _stop her!_

Jaune tried to order her to _stop, _but words wouldn't form, air whistling out of his opened throat.

All about him was chaos. All hell had broken loose, guards fighting, Cinder- _what was happening?_

Clasping a hand to his wound, trying to close his windpipe enough, Jaune struggled to rasp, _"Blake!" _he gasped, _"Retreat!"_

Unable to disobey a direct order, she still froze for a half second… before melting into black shadow. If he could breathe, Jaune would have let out a sigh of relief. Battle was raging all around him, Cinder had just impaled a Menagerie guard with her weapon, Mrs. Rose had brought Ghira Belladonna down, barking orders to Valean security and Atlesian guards were… something. Jaune didn't know. He didn't know anything, anymore.

But Blake was gone. And she wouldn't have to bear the guilt of having killed her own mother. She was safe. It was worth it. He was… it was… it was better… that things end this way.

And at that, the darkness finally overcame him, and Jaune blacked out.

**And it's the end of Act 4! It was a very talky Act where a lot of emotional progress was made, and then it all went _right to hell._ But the next Act is going to be a lot more action oriented as everything goes even more right to hell. I've been hyping Pyrrha and Summer as combatants, and how _dangerous _the Daughters of Salem are, and I hope I can deliver on that when the claws come out and the real violence begins.**

**Though, and I admit this is a terrible time to announce this, 27 chapters in, I am now out of backlog! And as such, I can't guarantee weekly updates. Heck of a place for a cliffhanger, but don't worry, I have the next 12 chapters outlined and much of the next Act in the late drafting phase, so I'm confident that I'll be able to see this story to the end. But you might have to spend a bit of time in uncertainty on what happens next, if Jaune survives, or how the Daughters of Salem are going to react to this.**

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter, and I'm looking forward to Act 5!  
**


	28. What The Living Do

**CW: Act V is going to involve a lot more violence, trauma, and horror than what this story's previously contained. Scenes of extreme violence, gore, and suicidal ideation will occur and the relevant chapters will be tagged, but consider a general heads up for the entire Act.  
**

_...BEEP…_

_...BEEP…_

_...BEEP..._

Eyelids fluttered. Light was harsh, darkness soothing, but… but the light… eyes needed to open. Needed to see things in the _light _and… and what was this place? Clean. White walls. Curtains. Bed, not a… not home. Tubes and wires and machines all around. Not a bedroom. A- a hospital? It felt, yes, yes it was a hospital. This was the place. Healing. What- what happened?

A regular, piercing noise, _BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… _punctuating the sterile quiet of the room. A hospital. A hospital room. On a… on a hospital bed. Because…

Memories flashed through her mind. The blade. The blood. Her daughter. Pain. Then… nothing. She had- _what had happened to her daughter?_

Kali jerked up with a strangled gasp, "Blake!" she cried out, "Where is Blake, where is-"

"Easy, easy, you're okay-"

"_Where is my daughter?"_

She realized that it was Ghira who was beside her, not a stranger, laying a calming hand on her shoulder. He'd always been the steady one, the rock in their relationship. But on his face, she saw… she saw…

"We don't..." she murmured. Ghira shook his head, sadly, and Kali felt the tears come to her eyes, "We didn't succeed?"

Ghira held her in her arms and Kali felt a sudden surge of guilt. The profound _loss _that came with her failure, the- the memory of- _gods above, what had they done to her little girl?_

"She… we almost had her," he said.

She blinked, dully. Her memory was still patchy, her mind struggling with the traumas she had endured. Vaguely, she remembered… remembered that Marcus had failed. Then there was the anger. The rage, incoherent and unthinking, seeing what the _witch _had done to her daughter, not just in reshaping her into a _monstrous _form, but… making her a _part _of her own enslavement, turning her to defend the monster that bound her in slavery! Kali couldn't hold her anger in, her hand was on her blade before she realized it as maternal instinct and the bloody rage of the past _decade and a half _rushed through her and _slashed _the throat of... and… and then she _felt _those blows raining down upon her. That look of pure, unmistakable _grief _hurt even more, knowing that her daughter had been so _turned _by that evil woman. The sight had been almost enough to kill Kali right there. But she still lived. Still alive… she had more to do in this world.

"We… we've gone too far to back out now," Kali said slowly.

Ghira nodded. "They have the children under security at Beacon, but… Atlas has invalidated the compact between Kingdoms."

Her eyes went wide, a gesture that brought a throb of dull _pain _to her head. But she'd have time to hurt later. The world was turning, and she had to know _where._ "And that means..." she asked.

"Atlas has… invaded Vale," Ghira explained with grave finality, "I saw it myself—a strike force led by Winter liberated us from Valean imprisonment. No shots fired, but it's undeniably a hostile act. The First Fleet has reinforced the security forces already present here, and most of Vale's military forces have stood down. The Councils of Mistral and Vacuo have already joined the Coalition and surrendered their Relics. Vale is the holdout, and-"

"Ozpin is the holdout," Kali muttered.

"...Yes," Ghira said with a heavy sigh. Ozpin of Vale was as admired a man as there was throughout the world, but… he had made himself their enemy, as hard as that was to accept. "They're holding our daughter and protecting the Prince. James Ironwood's negotiating the surrender—not that they're calling it that—but… I expect it to end violently."

She knew she was in no state to fight, not even in a state to get up from her bed. But Kali felt an _urge _to march herself to Beacon and _make them _turn her away.

But… it wasn't a sensible option, as much as it spoke to her. She needed to rest, still. Needed to recover.

"And the Prince?" she asked, darkly.

Ghira just shook his head. "No word. He's holed up at Beacon. I suspect… I have to _assume _he is still alive-"

"_Damn,"_ Kali swore. Merlot's assessment had been clear: the Prince was the linchpin of their entire connection. It might not be enough to just kill him and free their daughter from the witch's spell, but breaking what Merlot called the "parasitic aura entanglement" would be necessary to make their children's freedom _possible._

"But other than that, Beacon's become a fortress. No word from anyone. Not even from our confederates in Atlas."

Kali nodded. It made sense—Jacques was likely keeping his distance (or being kept at a distance by Ironwood), and Winter had more on her plate now than ever before. All they could do was rest up.

"Ma'am!"

The sudden interjection caused both heads to shoot up and turn to see Ilia at the door, her eyes wet with tears of relief. Kali gestured for her to come to her side and, even as weak as she felt, she couldn't resist the urge to pull her assistant into a tight, reassuring hug.

"I- I was so _worried," _she wept as she held Kali, who was promising Ilia she was too tough to get brought down that easily. But the knowledge that she had worried Ilia like this… it hurt as much as her failure to rescue her daughter. Her… her other daughter. Seeing Ilia's concern and feeling what she felt as she held her… could she be anything _other _than her daughter.

The weight of so many regrets hung heavy on her as Kali held Ilia as fiercely and as closely as she could. So, so many regrets.

It made her think of her life. Had she- had she lived her life well? She had been so consumed by grief for years and years that now, she was in a hospital room, almost killed by her own daughter, in an act that had set off a war that would put all of humanity and Faunus kind into jeopardy. And… she had neglected this girl who had only wanted a mother. For Blake, she would gladly do the former all over again. She'd die a thousand times over for the daughter she never should have let go. But Ilia… how could she have done this to Ilia?

Pain and pain and pain again, but a new pain, one she hadn't felt before, gripped her breast. And with it came doubt. Doubt and remorse and second thoughts and-

"It's alright, dear."

She felt her Ghira's hand on her shoulder. He was always her rock, wasn't he? She realized she had started crying, the emotion… unfamiliar after so many long and cold years, shut out from hope. Wrapping her arms around her husband's broad frame, she buried her face in his chest, feeling the weight of her grief, her _years _of grief, pour out of her as she held him for dear life.

She broke the embrace, but only for a moment… and to signal Ilia to come over. The shy girl was hesitant to approach, but she could tell that Kali needed her in the moment. And Ilia never failed her.

Ilia struggled to hold back her own tears as Kali held her close. She felt the girl shake, but she dutifully refused to cry. It reminded Kali of Winter, when she was younger. When she felt she had to bear all the burdens of the world on her small shoulders… it brought so much unrestrained _grief _to Kali's heart, but she was so glad, so grateful, that the world, as cruel of a bitch as it was, had brought Ilia into her life.

Breaking from the hug, Kali reached out to grab her husband and her protege's hands and give them both a comforting squeeze. She didn't have words, not now, but she needed to feel their touch, feel the connection of family, now, as much as ever.

There wasn't much time. There never was, but now, Kali _needed _a moment of quiet, a moment to hold those dear to her. For her own sake as much as theirs. She knew, from her time in the White Fang, that it was crucial for leaders to support their people, to _feel _with them. Not only to create the bonds that all groups were built on, but to make your feelings real. She had spent years shutting out her feelings, denying her grief into cold ruthlessness, but right now… she needed a moment of quiet. A moment to feel, with her family, how much she had _lost._

But the quiet was broken as Ilia's soft voice quietly told Kali the last thing she expected to hear.

"I… we have support from the White Fang."

"From Sienna?" Kali asked, unsure if she had heard her right or it was just the work of her concussion haze. Sienna… Sienna wouldn't be swayed by emotional appeals, not like this.

"No, from… from Taurus."

The room got still at that name. Ghira and Kali had never been supporters of Adam Taurus, in spite of his popularity, and she knew the feeling was mutual.

"I'd accept even Adam on my side if I were fighting the devil," Ghira mused, "And if there is a devil… well, he's in Beacon right now."

Kali nodded. All histories of animosity, all politics and ideologies disintegrated in front of the unimaginable evil of the Grimm. Kali had seen firsthand what it had done to her daughter, not just to her body, but to her _mind, _turning her into something… into something cruel and violent and unimaginable. Something that would _kill her own mother _to protect the lieutenant of the witch that had poisoned her.

To break that… they would need all the help they could get.

* * *

Panic.

Wrath.

Grief.

Purpose.

Pyrrha didn't know what words she had to describe her feelings at this moment. Weiss stood over Jaune, his wound, that _awful _black wound across his throat, stopped up with Grimmstuff as she invoked a dozen different spells to stabilize him or, if nothing else, bind his soul in place. To keep him with them. So he wouldn't- wouldn't-

She felt the clutch of fear in her breast.

An invincible, unbeatable warrior, and Pyrrha was gripped by a fear so terrible, she thought it would just _tear _her in half. Let her legs shake to pieces, let the tears run down her face until she had no more tears to cry, till blood ran down her cheeks and she pulled her hair out and let grief consume her once and for all.

But she had to be strong.

She was the Eagle. Her sisters were looking to her for guidance. For strength. They _needed _her to be strong and… and _Jaune _needed her to be strong. If—_when—_he came back, she would tell him how she had taken up leadership in his hour of need. How she did what was needed.

She placed a hand on her beloved's shoulder, feeling how cold, how pale he was. He was always the healthiest of them, if not the heartiest, the one with the most of his humanity still intact. She had loved him for it, loved him so dearly, but now… now she was seeing the cost of it, that hideous red scar across his throat, mingled with a blackened scab of Grimm matter.

"How's he doing?" she whispered to Weiss.

Weiss just sniffled. "I'm- I'm trying," she said, working another incantation, desperately trying to keep him holding on. Magic was not Pyrrha's forte, she had the least intuition of it of her sisters, but she knew the Darkness as well as Weiss did. She could see the traces of the spellwork, the raw _power _pulsating across his body. And she could see that much of it was not to heal him but _tether _him, tie his soul to his body and _not _let it depart.

Pyrrha had to look away. She couldn't… couldn't leave his side, but so close to him and his pain, she couldn't _breathe. _Weiss… she couldn't even be there for Weiss, weaving enchantments and doing all she could to save their brother, showing a strength even Pyrrha did not have. So she stepped to the other side of the room, where Emerald was sitting on a bed, shell-shocked, her eyes squeezed shut as she always did when she was afraid, and Blake was staring a hole into the floor, a long bone knife gripped tight in her hand.

"How are you holding up?" she asked them, knowing that there wasn't an answer to that question. Still, without Jaune… she was needed. He would want her to do this.

Blake looked at her, grimly. "You know what needs to be done," she said, acid in her voice. "Kali Belladonna must _pay _for her crimes."

Pyrrha glanced to Emerald, but Blake interrupted before she could speak. "I have to do it. I _failed _Jaune, I-" her lips trembled, "I was there and I- I _didn't realize _the threat, please- _please, _Pyrrha, it has to be-"

"You're too close to this," Emerald said, trying to calm Blake down before she utterly fell apart, "I can do it. It's my duty to conduct the Prince's-"

"_She was my mother!" _Blake exploded, unable to hold back the tears that now poured forth, "And she- she- my blood is _tainted, _I have to make up for this! I need- I- she _has _to die, _please, _Pyrrha, give the order and I-"

"I can guarantee," Emerald quietly added, "that your face will be the last thing she ever sees, if it-"

"It's not enough!" she shrieked, "I want- I want to see Menagerie _burn, _Pyrrha! I- I failed, and I need- they need- they need to pay! I would have them _watch _as I put every Faunus on that wretched island in _chains, _I would- I would-" her words broke apart into desperate sobs.

Blake was in total despair, and it broke Pyrrha's heart to see how utterly unmade her sister was right now. But they were all despairing, all in panic. It didn't matter. They needed strength right now, something to cling to, just enough strength to keep from utterly falling apart.

But did Pyrrha have even that?

Glancing at her brother, lying still on the bed, two Grimm tentacles conjured from Weiss pumping Grimmstuff into him. That would be enough to treat just about any injury the rest of them received, but Jaune… Jaune was more human than Grimm. That he was the most _human _of them all, and yet… and yet he was the one who had to suffer for it.

That was the truth of his life, wasn't it? No matter what happened, _Jaune suffered for it._

Pyrrha put her face in her hands, trying to hide her tears, but she knew there was no hiding this. She could _feel _her sisters' desperation, and that was a pain as sharp as knowing her brother was so grievously wounded.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she looked back at them.

"We… we will not act."

"What?" Blake cried, "What do you-"

"What would Jaune want us to do!" she snapped back.

Blake leapt up at that, snarling at Pyrrha. "Our brother is _wounded, _perhaps _mortally so, _and you expect us to stand back? You would- you can't- can't-" But then her anger broke, Blake's legs giving out as her sobs overtook her, toppling forward into Pyrrha's arms. "I can't- I can't just _stay here _and wait! Please, Pyrrha, please, I'm not- I'm not _strong enough, _please, just-"

They heard the door open, and Blake buried her face into Pyrrha's chest in shame as Pyrrha gave a _glare _at the intruder.

It was Cinder, and she staggered from the force of Pyrrha's look. She had chosen the _wrong time _to interrupt, and Pyrrha made sure that she _felt _her trespass.

"I- I'm sorry!" she gasped, feeling Pyrrha's _ire _coil around her, "B-but, for your safety, you need to know-"

"Speak, then," Pyrrha barked, but she released Cinder from her gaze. She helped Blake into Emerald's arms as she turned her attention to dealing with the situation. It was painful that she couldn't help Blake, but with Jaune out, she was in command, and she needed Cinder's intel now.

"It's… there was a conspiracy. The Belladonna family," she drew in close, dropping her voice lower, "was in league with the Schnee family, likely with the support of the Atlesian government. As such, Kali and Ghira Belladonna have been freed from Valean custody by an Atlesian strike force. Whether or not this constitutes an Act of War against Vale isn't certain, but… I would strongly advise that we take decisive action _now. _We have the forces sufficient to take Beacon, and that would give us hostages from every Kingdom to leverage-"

"No."

Cinder looked at her in wide-eyed surprise, as though she was briefly trying to process if she actually heard her correctly. "I- Pyrrha, Jaune's _safety_ demands that we-"

A glare cut her off, the wall beside her _cracking _from its force. "We will hold this space against any attackers, but _Jaune's will _is that we work for peace with the people of Remnant. Until our brother is back to give another order, I will _not _allow _any _of us to fail him when he needs us most."

Her words seemed to still the air in the room. Cinder looked at her in disbelief, so did Blake and Emerald. The only sound she could hear was Weiss's soft sniffles and the unnatural _glunck, glunck, glunck _noise of the tentacles pumping away. But Pyrrha was resolute. She knew… as much as it _killed her _to resist the voice of the Darkness… what Jaune wanted from her. From them all. She would be strong, like _he _had been strong for them.

"We will maintain discipline," Pyrrha said, gravely, "We are our Prince's loyal Birds of Prey, and our duty is to him. When he awakens, I will tell him that we all carried out his orders in his absence." Hope was a thin and tremulous resource, but Pyrrha knew her words had caught in her sisters' eyes, glimmering faintly, afraid to believe. "Until then, we hold this room, nothing more."

"But… but what if-" Cinder swallowed, nervous to contest Pyrrha, likely still remembering how it felt when Pyrrha had nearly crushed her heart inside her chest for allowing Weiss to suffer on Parents Night, "What if he _doesn't_ come back?"

Mistake. Pyrrha, Blake, and Emerald all looked at her in cold, silent fury. There were things not to be spoken of, and people who _should not be speaking _at this moment. "Cinder." Pyrrha commanded, "This is a family matter. I would ask you to return to your quarters at this time."

Cinder looked at her in shock, then glanced over to Emerald, who, to Pyrrha's relief, was as stone faced and resolute as she was, even to the face of her mentor.

"I can escort you back to your room," Emerald replied, coolly.

Unable to argue against them, Cinder meekly nodded. "I… thank you, Pyrrha. I trust you will do what you deem best."

As the two of them left, Pyrrha turned back to Blake.

"She's right, you know," Blake whispered.

"I know."

"We have to act, before they-"

"Blake."

Her word was as potent and icy as anything Pyrrha could manage. It was a command sufficient to silence her sister. Pyrrha was Jaune's lieutenant. She was in charge in his absence or incapacitation, and she had been trained for years for what it meant to take leadership. She knew to take advice from her allies and her sisters, but she knew that there were decisions she could not turn on. As much as it pained her, as difficult as it was to _restrain _herself right now, she knew what was important here.

"Jaune wanted peace," she said, bluntly, "His last order was for you to _retreat _rather than seek vengeance. We will carry on the _spirit _of that order and ensure the safety and security of our family. That is _all _we will be doing right now, until the situation changes."

Blake seemed to be thinking of a rebuttal, but thought better of it. Smart. Pyrrha did not need to be second guessed right now. It was hard enough just holding herself together, but… but she needed to. Needed to do it for Jaune. He would… he _would _wake up and she would tell him that she'd resisted her nature. Upheld his values. _Proven _that he didn't need to go it all alone. That she could support him.

He would see. He had to. He had to come back so he could _see, _and _oh gods, _she needed help! She needed Mother or Mrs. Rose or _anyone _to tell her that things were going to be okay and that her brother would come back! She was an invincible warrior, but her heart hurt _too much _to bear this much longer!

She wanted to cry, to break down, to just let her emotions run wild and _sob, _but she couldn't. Jaune- Jaune needed her to be strong. They all needed her to be strong, but she _just wasn't strong enough to-_

"Hey..."

Pyrrha tensed as she felt Blake's hand gently rest on her shoulder, "It's okay. He's... going to be okay."

"Blake, I-"

"He is. And you're gonna be okay too."

Pyrrha wanted to respond, to tell Blake that she didn't need help, but she couldn't. She was holding too much in and it felt like she might _burst _if she didn't do anything about it. So she turned to her sister and threw her arms around her in a tight hug.

She held her. Shook. And began to sob as Blake held her tight. She too was crying, any attempt at composure had been lost. They were just… this wasn't something they knew how to handle. This wasn't something they were equipped to handle. All Pyrrha knew was violence and the Darkness inside her was _screaming _for blood. She could hear the voices of Mr. Rainart, Professor Callows, _Mother, _all calling for action, action now, hot and bloody. But- but she heard _Jaune's _voice, heard the voice from their date about how much he tried to keep everything together and she knew she _couldn't _destroy her brother's dreams for the world.

But what would it matter if the world destroyed her brother? If those _wretched, cruel, and stupid people who couldn't understand that-_

That's when she heard a choked, strangled gasp.

Whirling in terror, in abject panic, the both of them rushed to their brother's side where they saw him cough and sputter and… open his eyes.

**It's good to be back on this story, and I am very much looking forward to posting the next few chapters as we see how the chips from the assassination plot fall. A lot of comments came down pretty hard on the Belladonnas actions in the last chapter, and Kali's strike was definitely one motivated by the rage and anguish of seeing what's become of her daughter rather than calm reasoning, but I would note, the Schnees and the Atlesian government were pretty much wholly behind the plan. The problem was that the decapitation strike failed and sent the whole thing into chaos, but once Marcus was revealed, Atlas and Menagerie had effectively declared war on the Grimmlands, and now it's just a question of how this crisis plays out, and whether people double down on their worst instincts, or take a risk on their better ones... and now we've got Jaune coming back into the scene, coming fresh off a near death experience. Something that can really change a person.  
**

**Thrilled to break _500_ faves! As always, I am grateful for my fans and readers for making that possible, and thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**

**If I tricked you into thinking the opening paragraphs were from Jaune's POV, then my plan paid off :)**


	29. Ever This Day, Be At My Side

**CW: Suicidal ideation**

Strange dreams broke into strange sights, black shapes in a black sea, drifting along, black on black, but now... a white light beckoning… Bright. Powerful. Invincible. But its light meant danger. A cold light, merciless, relentless, a light that would strip away everything. Not like the blackness that held him now. The blackness was warm. Connected, a bond between things, many, many things, merging, shifting, an ocean, a current. Calling him back, calling him…

Eyes opened to light and shapes, the light hurt, the shapes blurred and shifted, but it all became- became clearer as- as meaning came into it, and, and-

_He was alive._

* * *

"Listen UP!"

Adam strolled down the length of assembled White Fang soldiers. He'd hand-picked this group, the best fighters he knew, possibly some of the roughest men and women in the world. Faunus with combat experience, wiring bombs and sniping human security forces with little more than what weapons could be scrounged up. Die-hard supporters for the cause, each and every one, and he needed that loyalty, that experience today. There were good odds this could end up a hot mission, and if things went hot, they'd likely be going up against some place fortified, like the police headquarters or, if they wanted the big prize, the Valean Council Chambers. Or hell, even Beacon itself was on the table. A fight for the history books in front of them, but… but this was the time to be audacious. Cause right now, they'd be backed up by, of all things, the Atlesian military.

Of all the twists of history… but Adam saw opportunity when there was opportunity. Politics made strange bedfellows, but perhaps, at times like this, it was less "cooperation" and more "play along and nobody starts shooting." Atlas didn't want their help. Hell, if it came down to fighting human Valeans or fighting Faunus irregulars, Atlas would _easily _choose to fight the Fang. But they weren't getting that choice—Atlas was the ones invading-without-invading Vale, and trying to check the White Fang now… that wasn't something they could achieve, not without turning this whole powder keg into a rolling battle. So they'd have to grit their teeth and deal with the White Fang strutting up and down the streets until the _much bigger _problem in Vale was dealt with. And once the shooting _started? _Well, Adam knew from experience that chaos was the great leveler. A risky situation, a very dangerous line to walk, but that's why Adam had called in his best.

Looking down their rows, eye to eye with his men, Adam began his instructions, "The situation in Vale is-"

"None of our concern," a commanding voice cut in, interrupting him. Adam looked to its source, but it was unnecessary. There was only one woman who'd _dare _try to check him. And _of course_ she'd found a way to be in Vale right now.

"Sienna," he growled. Of course she made an entrance like this… _"This _is our moment! _Leaders _of our movement were taken by Vale—are we going to allow this _insult _to stand against us?"

"I seem to recall," Sienna replied, lazily glaring at the assembled men, "that _Atlas _has already freed 'our' leaders… though I'm sure Ghira would be quite moved to hear you refer to him as a leader..."

"You know what I mean." Sienna merely gave him a blank, bored expression. He really _hated _this woman sometimes. "There is a threat against all Faunus in Vale and the White Fang does _nothing. _Whatever thoughts I had about Ghira and Kali Belladonna have no weight here, when _they _did what we should have done. That _Prince _of the Grimm would see us all _conquered _beneath his boot and I would sooner _die _than allow-"

"Then _die _already, Adam. You're not doing _anything, _and that's my final word."

She was trying to bait him. A child could tell that. Pushing and prodding him in front of his men, hoping to force him to act in a way that would give her the upper hand. Sienna was canny when it came to politics, Adam would give her that. But her entire strategy relied on something she _assumed _she had. And that gave it all away.

So Adam didn't give in. He just took a deep breath and presented himself as the loyal, but frustrated, underling Sienna knew he wasn't.

"I have… information that says the rest of the claimed, including Ghira Belladonna's _daughter,_ could be _rescued _if we just sever the connection the Prince of the Grimm holds over them. Our assistance could-"

"Information from Kali and Ghira I take it? No, no, this isn't _Ghira's_ way," Sienna tsked, "You're being led by the nose to places the White Fang _will not follow. _This is a battle we can only lose, a short-sighted push for your own glory that will set us _all _back. But more importantly, Adam, I have made my opinion on this _clear._ You are to-"

Adam let a bit of his temper out, just a bit, to keep Sienna from catching on. "You're refusing me the opportunity to _rescue _one of our own people! The _daughter _of those who once _held _your office!" he exploded.

Sienna's eyes suddenly narrowed, her nostrils flared. She was angry. Good. "You don't _know _Kali Belladonna, so don't lecture me on what information her little assistant leaked to you. She's not who you think she is, and she's not in your chain of command. _I _am, and if you think you can contradict my orders then I'll enjoy helping you meet the Fang's Justice myself. You will do _nothing._ That's an order from your High Leader."

Her point made, she turned to storm out of the room. Adam let her make a few steps, let her think she'd won the fight. Except...

"You're too late."

Sienna stopped. Slowly, she turned around to face Adam once more. "What?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

Adam allowed himself a little smirk. "These are my handpicked men," he explained, "the ones who I knew would follow me into _anything_ I needed them to do. Anything." Sienna's eyes cautiously darted over to them, seeing that these weren't White Fang soldiers, but _his _soldiers. "But the real force is made up of Valean Faunus. I told them to move to the streets already, and to take action against Vale Security that didn't stand down. For all we know, the fighting's already begun, with or without your support, _High Leader."_

Sienna stormed towards him, her voice a murderous growl. "You imbecilic _beast! _Do you have any ideas-"

Adam raised his hand. "Corsac? Fennec? Please take the High Leader to some place comfortable. She's liable to be agitated by any new information about today's developments."

It seemed that Sienna realized that herself and her bodyguards were quite outnumbered by Adam's forces. She might have assumed she had a chance, that his men wouldn't attack the High Leader of the White Fang, especially not Valean Faunus who only knew him by reputation, not in person.

But Adam had been moving people into Vale in secret for a while now. Ilia Amitola had brokered a deal with him to pick up a few at a time as they rotated Embassy security, and now he had a real force of loyal, dedicated men who didn't see things the way Sienna thought they saw things. Men who took orders from _him. _And that meant that, for the time being, while Sienna was… indisposed, _he _was Acting High Leader.

It felt good. Felt _right._

"Men!" he barked, the men snapping back to attention, "I want you in the streets, I want people seeing that the White Fang is out there! Be prepared for violence, and don't let them think that they can push us around! We're entering a new word, men, a world without Kingdoms and divisions, a world without the tyranny of the GRIMM!" The men roared as he pumped his fist into the air, the echo of their _might _shaking the very room! "We won't let the cowards who would bow to Salem run Vale. We won't let the old order strangle the new before it is born! We! Won't! Let them! NOW GET TO IT!"

History was being made today, and the White Fang would be front and center for it.

* * *

Jaune looked like a mess, still so feeble, but he stared back at them, his eyes slowly gaining focus, recognition. He saw them, he was- he was alive!

How many times had they pulled him back from this brink? Delivered him from The Hole and helped him regain his sense of reality? But this… this was worse. So much worse.

A thousand emotions roiled in Blake's gut. Rational thought had failed her, utterly. Every part of this visit had broken her down, obliterated every illusion she had about her own ability and worth, but this… she didn't know there was a lower state for her to fall to. She was _utterly wretched _as all she could do was _pray_ that Jaune would speak to him, that he'd be _alright._

That was when he opened his mouth in a low, keening groan, and Blake's heart _dropped._

But out of his anguish, words arose. "Is… is everyone alright?" he asked.

His voice was weak and tremulous, but it was _his voice. _Hope surged in her breast, she wanted to rush forward, to clasp her brother in her arms, to just hold him tightly, but propriety (and shame, a deep, abiding shame) held her back.

Pyrrha, though, wasn't stained by Blake's disgrace and failure. She surged forward, to his side, her eyes wide and clearly terrified of the _hope _she was feeling.

"Jaune, we're- we're fine, are you-"

But she was cut off as Jaune gave a wrenching, shuddering cough. Weiss moved forward, forcing Jaune to lie back down as she continued her soft incantations. Blake realized that she had to call Emerald back, that she should be here _now, _even if it hurt to look away from her brother.

As Blake called for her, the door was opened before Blake had even finished Emerald's name, her sister bursting in, unable to wait to see that he was alive. But her joy and relief were tempered by the sight of their brother's state, pale and coughing and gagging, struggling to gain strength enough to talk to them.

It was a painful sight for them all.

When the fit had passed, he looked at them with weak, bleary eyes. "What's..." he asked, weakly, "what's… going on…?"

Pyrrha was the first to answer, and Blake marveled at how controlled her voice was when Blake was worried that opening her mouth and trying to say anything, anything at all, would only end with her bursting into tears. "You were attacked by Kali and Ghira Belladonna," Pyrrha said, "who were acting in league with the Schnee family and, we believe, the Atlesian government. We've held our position in Beacon, waiting for you..."

Her words trailed off. Blake could tell why. The _look_ on Jaune's face as Pyrrha described the conspiracy against them… it moved Blake to a mortal _rage, _but in Jaune… she saw a despair so deep and impenetrable, she felt even her own anger draining away. She tore her eyes away, unable to bear it as she struggled to reignite her fury.

But there was an easy way to bring her rage back to the fore.

"Kali will pay!" Blake spat in fury, "I will _slice_ her wretched- I mean, with your blessing, _we_ can ensure that she doesn't draw another breath! We can-"

"No..."

His voice was cracked and desperate, the kind that broke Blake's _heart _to hear it.

"Jaune," Emerald said, her voice strained with emotion, "You don't understand. We almost _lost _you. I _know _how important peace is to you, but you were _attacked. _We're at war, now. I'm sorry, but we _are._ We have to act. We'll... take care of the..." her voice trailed, searching for a word, but not finding it. "You just have to stay safe. We've trained for this. We're ready."

He paused. There were no words, just the sound of his soft, ragged breathing. Blake blinked away tears as she tried to rally herself for the moment. Jaune would- he would need her assistance, her guidance in this. He'd need… he'd need to know who his allies were, who he could rely on. How to make sure he… made it home, safe.

But grief overtook her. Grief and panic, both surged in her breast and all attempts at remaining collected, remaining in control, failed her utterly. She began to sob, her great, stifled bawls shaking her whole body as she clung to the bed. She couldn't- she _couldn't bear this any longer!_

She felt Emerald's hand on her shoulder, her sister's touch usually bringing her comfort, but now, in the depth of her wretchedness and hopelessness and despair, it only brought her pain. Pain that she wasn't what her siblings needed right now. That she had failed, that she had brought this pain and misery to her family, and now she couldn't do- couldn't do _anything!_

Broken. Breaking. She was falling apart, unable to look at her brother, unable to do anything but clutch at the blanket over him, resting her hand over his knee. She was useless. Useless! All her plans, all her preparation, everything she had thought had ever mattered or been of _value _was… useless. Everything she knew, everything she had, was all just dust and ashes.

So she looked to Pyrrha.

Pyrrha. Radiant Pyrrha, Invincible Pyrrha, the Eagle, the sister she turned to when all else had failed. And she was there, standing strong, no trace of _weakness _in her as she lay a gentle hand on their brother's shoulder. It gave her the strength to look to Jaune, to see the pain and concern and _desperation _in his face and silently blinked the tears away. She had to be strong, for _him._

"Jaune," Pyrrha began, "I have done what I can to keep things from escalating, but we are in considerable danger here. I propose we retreat to the Grimmlands so that we can negotiate from a position that-"

But Jaune cut her off, shaking his head. Blake didn't like it, but her heart leapt. He was- he would be calling for _blood. _There would be _revenge, _and the Darkness inside her pulsed—along with her siblings. Sorrow was driven from her heart as a hunger for wrath surged within.

Bracing against Pyrrha, Jaune moved to get up from the bed. Weiss disconnect the tubes attached to him—Blake could see the pinkened skin from where they'd connected with his abdomen—and timidly shied away, frightened by everything going on. It was the one thing in the world that could calm Blake's bloodlust as she moved over to Weiss's side, putting a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder, which quickly became a hug.

Once on his feet, though, Blake could see that Jaune, though weakened, had healed considerably in his coma. Still shaky, but strong enough to stand. He shook his head, then addressed them with the plan. "I'm going to talk to Cinder," he said, slowly, but deliberate in every word, "I'm going to… to get a meeting. With- with the Belladonnas, and the Schnees, and we'll- we'll-"

"_What?" _Blake gasped, involuntarily, but… well, _what was he thinking?_

Jaune just shook his head more. "I- I can't- I have to face this. Head on." He looked up at her, his eyes wild and unfocused, "There's no other way, no other… "

"Jaune, you need to _rest." _Pyrrha said, in the voice that had been forceful enough to check Blake's need for revenge. "You're not thinking rationally. We can..."

But Jaune wasn't Blake. He was the Prince, and while he might be the most human of them, he was powerful in a way even Pyrrha wasn't. Her attempts to compel him died on her lips as Jaune shook his head.

"No," he responded, "They… they tried to kill me because… because of what Mother did to you. And they won't… there's no other way, I have to talk to them. If we run-"

"Jaune," Blake cut in, timidly, her thirst for vengeance now drowned in her fear, "If we retreat, we can take any option from a _safe _place, but here, whatever we do is… Jaune, please, we have to get to _safety. _Now!"

Jaune silenced her with a look. "If we go back to the Grimmlands, Mother will declare war on Remnant. She will, and millions will die, and it will _be_ _my fault._ The only way to _stop _it is… I have to speak with them. It's the only way."

Weiss was shaking in her arms, and Blake wasn't sure if her body was being shook by Weiss's tremors or if she was just as frightened herself. Emerald looked terrified, desperately looking for guidance neither Blake nor Pyrrha could give. Blake suddenly felt like she, for the first time since arriving, really needed a grown up to step in. Hell, she wished _Cinder _was here, just to give them _something._

But while Blake was useless, Pyrrha had found the strength to confront Jaune on his orders. Throwing her stance wide, her eyes focused in grim determination, she placed herself between him and the door and gave an order of her own. "Jaune, you're not thinking straight! I will not _let you _take that risk. You have to get-"

"Do not get in my way!"

His voice exploded with the _power _of Jaune's status. He was the Prince; his words were not to be disobeyed. And so… even Pyrrha couldn't stand against him. She stood. Frozen. All her _power _straining against his orders, trying to _refuse _it, but… she couldn't.

None of them could.

Pyrrha stepped aside.

Jaune looked around the room, his eyes red, his face haggard. He seemed… he seemed like something had _broken. _In all of them. Blake wanted to surge forward, to clutch him to her breast and _beg _him to tell her what to do, how she could _fix this, _but his words were absolute. Desperation whirled in her mind, ideas spinning like leaves caught in a windstorm. Even _thinking _against him was a struggle, but Blake was in a full panic. She wanted to beg, cry, pound the floor and throw a tantrum, _anything_ that would make him stop as he walked to the door. But she couldn't. All efforts to act merely choked in her throat as she watched, powerlessly. As much as Blake held treasonous thoughts against Mother… she couldn't stand against Jaune.

"I'm… sorry," he croaked to them as he opened the door, "but it's… it's the only way. I know what I'm doing, and… I'm sorry."

The door shut behind him, and Blake nearly toppled forward as she suddenly gasped for air, suddenly realizing she had been holding her breath. But she had to speak, had to speak her piece at that. "He's not… not acting sensibly," she gasped, "T-trauma response o-or panic, or- or- or- _I don't know!"_

"What can we do? What can we _do?"_ Pyrrha whimpered, her shoulders slumping.

"It's suicide!" Emerald cried, "Meeting them at all, it's- it's insane! And without an escort? They'll _kill _him!"

"We _can't _disobey..." Pyrrha said, her eyes unfocused as the enormity of the situation had finally broken down even her resolve.

Blake leapt up and grabbed her sister by the shoulders. She was the strongest of them, she had the best chance of taking action, of denying a direct order. Even thinking this made the Darkness inside her _quake, _but Blake was too desperate not to force through. "Pyrrha!" she gasped, "You- you- _Do something!"_

But all she could do was whimper as her legs _refused _to move from their spot, the power of the Darkness, of their Prince's command, too forceful to be challenged. With a sob, Pyrrha toppled forward into Blake's arms. "I just… I don't know _why _he doesn't- he doesn't want us..."

They were all silent. The horrid fear deep in the Darkness rose up, a Hydra of all their insecurities long suppressed. Without Jaune, there was nothing holding them at bay, without Jaune, they had _nothing. _All the fears from that _horrible night _were now encircling Blake, choking off her thoughts, _strangling her-_

Weiss, though, found the strength to speak up. "I know why," she said in a high, trembling voice.

They looked to her. Weiss was their most childish sister, but she was also one whose mind was attuned to the Darkness in a way beyond even Mother's. And she'd spent the past… however many hours it had been in this horrifyingly empty time since Jaune had been attacked attuning herself to his soul, trying to fix what she could. If there was an answer… she would know it.

"Because he… he's not fighting anymore. He doesn't care if it's dangerous. He... wants to die," Weiss said, her voice hollow.

_It's suicide._

They all stared at her in silent realization that she was right.

* * *

Jacques understood that he drove his security detail crazy. He had always done so—they believed he had a death wish after the loss of his wife and daughter, and, frankly, they weren't wrong. But his long history of disappearances and long, private walks hadn't just been for his long and malignant depression, but because he'd been plotting the chaos they now found themselves in.

Ideally, it would have gone better than this.

But his insistence that he _not _return to Atlas, not until his daughter was returned to him, had been taken even worse than his usual carelessness. General Ironwood himself had attempted to demand that he leave the hot zone, but… well, he could piece things well enough together that the Belladonnas hadn't pulled this strategy off on their own. And his involvement raised questions about Winter's involvement, but the time to settle that out would be later. Now was the time for war, and trying to force a stubborn old geezer to return to Atlas would take more time and resources than Ironwood wanted to commit.

Besides, Jacques had something Ironwood needed.

"Councilwoman Verdigris, it's good to see you," Jacques greeted his visitor warmly, "I hope that General Ironwood's security forces haven't-"

"I get the feeling," the Councilwoman, a tall and elegant older woman from one of Vale's even older families—an aristocrat to the last, but still as sharp a politician as one would expect from her title, snapped, "you aren't exactly calling the shots here, anymore? Is this General Ironwood's show now, or are there any appeals Vale has left to make?"

Jacques—unlike James—knew not to react with any anger or indignation. Verdigris had a point: things had gone right to hell and she was effectively a prisoner of Atlas, even if nobody wanted to acknowledge it. Instead, he spread his arms warmly, "Columbia, please, if James had his way, I'd be shipped right back to Mantle instead of meeting with you. This isn't an invasion," he lied, "and my presence here is to make sure that James doesn't forget that. The whole world needs to be a united front, and Vale is one of the four pillars the people of Remnant rely on for support."

His voice had taken on its heroic tone, the kind he'd learned after losing his daughter, when he knew he had to rally hopes and spirits. It was a strength he'd never realized he had, when his life was dominated by small, meager things like quarterly income reports and stock prices. And even a seasoned politician like Councilwoman Verdigris was not immune to the power of inspiration.

"I am here in Vale because we all have our part to play, Councilwoman. With Atlas as the vanguard, Mistral, Vacuo, and Vale, civilians, Huntsmen, and soldiers, all united, we can _defeat _the scourge that has preyed upon our world for too long. The... circumstances we are in are unfortunate, but we all knew: this war was inevitable. The Queen of the Grimm is a _monster, _through and through, and... Councilwoman," his voice turned dark, "you did not _see _what she did to my daughter."

His words had gotten through to her. The Councilwoman had an uncertain look, but the kind that told Jacques that she saw things his way as she spoke. "Valeans are patriots, Jacques," she finally said, "and they won't take well to a foreign military trying to take command of things."

"Then show them that Vale has not been lost," he said, his voice tinged with nobility, "and call for unity by showing your support for the Atlesian vanguard. Your voice can make the difference between that _monster's _victory or final defeat."

The Councilwoman only hesitated for a moment before giving him the slight nod that signified her acquiescence. They exchanged a few more words after that, about the political strategy moving forward. Mostly superfluous, they both had aides who handled the finer points of these things, but Jacques knew politicians—they were as human as anyone else, and liked to think that they had control over things. In these circumstances, it was more important than ever.

As the Councilwoman departed, Jacques leaned back in his chair, wondering what more was coming down the pipe. Kali's strike had been impetuous and, admittedly, put them in a worse situation by bloodying their own hands in the process, but all he could think was... he wished _he'd _been the one to tear the bastard's throat out. Ah, he could die _happy _if he knew he'd freed his Weiss from the witch's clutches, even if his death came only _seconds _after achieving it.

He remembered that he needed to call Whitley soon, reassure his son that all was well, even as his visit to Vale had turned to this. He felt some guilt, like he always did, thinking of how much his son had suffered in quiet as his family was torn apart in grief for his sister, something-

"Father!"

His eyes shot up, though he recognized the voice, terms, and ability to brush past his security and into his private study could mean only ever mean one person.

"It's the Prince!"

Jacques stood up in a hurry. Ever since he had received confirmation of the situation, the failure of Marcus's ambush and Kali's partial success, Jacques had been left in a dread uncertainty about what _state_ the Prince was in. Was he dead? Was the spell broken, could he get his daughter back? Or would that horrid _bitch _of a traitor, Cinder Fall, intervene to spirit them away? Or was he still alive, spinning his dark, malign influence to secure the Queen's hold over his precious Weiss? He rushed over to Winter, desperate to learn.

Winter didn't waste time. "He's alive, and… he wants to meet. With us, and the Belladonnas."

Jacques scoffed. "I'm not so foolish to wander into a trap he'd have time to set up with Ozpin. I'll speak with the-"

"No," she shook her head, "he- he wants to come to _us._ Alone."

Jacques froze. What… what could _that _mean?

"...Alone?" he asked, not believing the words in his own mouth.

But Winter confirmed it. "That's the word," she explained, "I didn't believe it either, but… it's what he's requested."

What madness could drive him to… or what deviousness? Was this the sort of confidence that came from a failed assassination, would he reveal some dark sorcery or other dread power against them? Perhaps he was stronger than any of them had ever suspected… the weakness that Dr. Merlot had detected being only a front, to lure them out...

"Well, we won't get a second chance..." Jacques muttered, heading back to his desk. There, from a locked cabinet, he withdrew a case he set atop the table. Punching in his security code, it opened, revealing a large revolver and six oversized bullets on a speedloader.

Winter whistled at the sight. "I had always wondered if there was anything to those rumors. If you had actually gone through with it..."

Jacques pushed the case to his daughter. "You're more the marksman than I am. But yes, I had a team work on some things… James wasn't to know about. Wanted to keep some things in the family and all, you understand, and I suspect James would be more focused on the pragmatic instead of the personal. And my drive to make sure she died at a _Schnee's _hands… he likely wouldn't see eye to eye on that."

Testing the weight of the revolver, Winter checked the trigger and hammer, felt the balance in her hand as she carefully experimented with how to carry the oversized revolver. "And this will be enough?" she asked.

"I had it designed to kill Salem herself. If she can be killed… these should be able to do it. Kali proved that her heir is vulnerable to blades, at least enough to seriously injure him… and this is much more than just a bullet. It should work, if anything does."

Winter absentmindedly nodded to that, still testing the gun in her hands. It was a weighty thing, specially designed to fire experimental dust and aura infused bullets specially designed to disrupt and utterly destroy Grimm matter. The pinnacle of over a decade's research into finding a way to kill the unkillable. Winter tested the trigger, setting off the _click _of an empty chamber. But Jacques could imagine it, could imagine it _so _clearly, the explosion of the propellant and the bullet rocketing forward, ending this nightmare once and for all.

They would save Weiss. They would free his daughter and let his Willow rest in peace. At long last, they would do what he promised at her grave, all those years ago.

**Like I said much earlier in the story, Jaune is actually really powerful. Like, easily the most powerful person in Vale for the whole course of the story, even if he could lose a fistfight against Yang. Cause if he gives an order, his sisters _have_ to comply. No matter what. Blake has been more-or-less openly plotting treason against Salem, but against Jaune, she can't even _try. _Even if it's the worst possible idea, and obviously the orders of a suicidal teenager, it's not optional.  
**

**Also, just gonna word of god head off some uncertainty: Jacques's _believes _his revolver might kill Salem. It would not. James Ironwood has a separate, verified method to kill Salem, but Jacques is just making the best of what dust technology can do. Jaune, however, is not immortal.**

**Ah, but we'll see how that all plays out in the next chapter, and trust me: this isn't the last turn in this Act! Thanks for reading, and thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**


	30. To Light

This was going to happen eventually.

Might as well happen now.

James didn't travel anywhere in Vale without a full military escort. While they were formally just supplying "military advisors" to Vale, James had no illusion what it meant when a full army deployed in a foreign nation and _forcibly suggested _that its elected government cede power to them. And there were pockets of resistance still in Vale. Nothing explosive, not yet, but he knew that the White Fang was moving toand that Cinder Fall had agents throughout the city. And the Prince was seized by some madness that led him to meeting with the very people who tried to have him killed. A meeting he'd have blocked if he _could, _but, reeling from Winter's betrayal, James knew that he wasn't exactly as in charge of things as he might have thought. Anything could be the spark that set off the powder keg, and one of them could be his own assassination.

Still, walking through Beacon Academy, the shining jewel of the Huntsman Academies and where he had, not so long ago, came to help plan and coordinate the most historic feat of international cooperation… he couldn't help but feel like he'd betrayed his own side coming here with soldiers.

But Ozpin was recalcitrant. He always was going to be the issue, James knew that so very well. He trusted Oz. Believed in him. Ozpin was his colleague, his fellow Headmaster, his friend. James looked up to him like the world looked up to him, but he was also a stubborn cuss who insisted he wasn't. A man prone to archaic sayings or gnomic phrases to position himself as the eternal teacher, paternalistically treating his colleagues as though they were just pieces on a chessboard. He wasn't someone who did thing by other people's methods, so James had, sensibly, cut him out of his plans. And James knew he was unaware of AP-14, because if he _had _learned about it through his secret ways, he most certainly would have told James he disapproved.

Like he was surely about to tell James as he asked his old friend to consent to the plan.

James sighed, a small gesture to underscore his frustration. He couldn't seem annoyed or overwhelmed in front of his men, even if he very much _was._ Damn it all, he could really use Winter's help right now. Even if she had been disloyal.

Hell, that was something he'd been _convinced _couldn't happen. He had thought he'd been paranoid, inappropriately so, to second guess the rumors about her estrangement from her father. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who would be deceitful like that, but… he'd done his due diligence. Had her followed, grilled her contacts, investigated every lead and she had come out clean. And James had felt like an ass to have doubted her.

Damnation, she'd been plotting her whole _life _for this.

But he'd have to deal with it later. He had so much he needed to deal with later. Now he was down a Maiden candidate at a time he desperately needed every asset on the field. He'd debated sending Harriet to take up the role, but… hell, this all came at the worst time. It was hard to… do what was necessary to someone who had been as unquestionably loyal as Fria just after he had been betrayed by Winter.

No, he had to handle things one at a time. And right now, he needed to secure one desperately needed strategic resource in the hands of his best, stubbornest, most willful friend. As he walked to the office of the living legend himself, James had to focus on how he would make sure that old friend didn't become a new enemy. Now, more than ever, they needed to be united. James had his doubts about the rest of the Atlesian Council's aims, about the influence of Jacques Schnee, but he was a soldier, through and through, and when the Council called, he had answered. If Ozpin could see the _reason _in this, they could avoid a crisis and save the world. Together.

It was a long elevator ride to Ozpin's office. He'd taken it many times, always wondering if the old man liked the psychological effect of making everyone have to wait in a little box, nowhere to go, nothing to do… just sit and ponder while they waited to reach their destination… at the top of a clock tower. Man had an odd fascination with time, stood to reason he knew how to weaponize it.

But at last, the doors _dinged, _and James had arrived at his destination. Ozpin was alone, a mercy in that. He didn't relish having this conversation, but it'd be so much worse if _Glynda_ was here as well. She... likely would never forgive him for this. An outcome he expected and accepted, but none the less painful for it. Ozpin rose from his desk as they approached, his face lined with grave concern, but… it could be worse. This was as good an entrance as he could have hoped for. Time to make his own show of good faith.

"Marrow, leave us."

The Specialist hesitated for a moment, but he knew to follow orders. Even if it was to immediately go back down the elevator he'd just gone up, leaving his commander alone with a legendary fighter. Ozpin was more dangerous than his tweedy, academic appearance made him seem, but James was also not a man to be intimidated.

"James," Ozpin began, as soon as the door had closed on Marrow, "I know I… am not able to talk you out of following your orders. I respect your commitment to your Council's will. But I _beg _of you, see reason! This aggression only plays into _her _hands! You think you're uniting the world, but all you're creating is the resentment she knows how to exploit!"

As inflexible and unflinching a reputation as James knew he had, he was still a man who knew to listen to the wisdom of others. Especially Ozpin. And there was a lot of truth in what he was saying: this plan was a gamble. A dangerous one at that. But one that James new could work, what he knew was their best option to succeed.

"But we can _win _this, Oz," he said, encouraging his friend to see his side of it, "We have a plan—with the four relics-"

"Beacon will _not _surrender its Relic!" Ozpin objected with a sudden intensity.

But James just kept going, "-we can beat her _for good. _Oz, I know this. I've confirmed it. You _know _that the Relic of Knowledge can-"

"You asked Jinn?"

James hadn't expected that this would be a surprise to his old friend. The Relics… James had always made his position quite clear. They were _tools to be used, _not some fearsome danger to be locked away. Yes, they had to be kept out of the enemy's hands, but James had the best security in the world in Atlas. Creation had made Atlas what it was. His acquisition of the Relic of Knowledge had been done so that he could _use _it.

So he nodded. "Jinn says that the plan would be sufficient to kill Salem."

But Ozpin hardly seemed to notice that James had _just _confirmed there was a way to kill the unkillable. "Was that _exactly _what she said? What did you ask her?" he asked with a fervent intensity.

This wasn't what James had expected to hear, but the wildness in Ozpin's eyes told him that this was something that mattered. Fortunately, he had been quite specific with his question,

"I asked her to confirm that the plan designated AP-14-4R, the plan to bring the power of the Four Relics and Maidens together against Salem would be sufficient to kill her once and for-"

"General," Ozpin suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, "that's not- _you didn't ask the right question! _Reuniting the Relics, it- it will _end the world. _It will kill Salem only because it will kill _everyone _when the Brothers return! _That's _why Jinn confirmed it would work! I- I've asked her," that was a shock, made more dramatic by Ozpin clearly realizing what he was saying as he spoke it, "if there was anything that I could do to kill Salem—and Jinn said no, because she knew I'd _never _destroy the world just to kill her! But she didn't- James! You have to stop this!"

Of all the things James had expected to hear in this meeting, all the possible recriminations, accusations, or pleas, he had not expected _this. _And in his moment of dismay and uncertainty, James turned his focus to his resoluteness, his commitment to _carry out his orders._

This... this _couldn't _be true. It was- was too contrived to believe! Each and every Kingdom protected a Relic, and he'd simply never _thought _to let them know of this inconvenient little fact about them? If he wasn't _making it up __on the spot, _why would he hide this from them? Even if it was true, what game was he playing here...

"You're lying," he growled, pushing Ozpin back out of his personal space. And he watched as Ozpin's fingers _clenched _around his cane. His _weapon. _James could easily read the message in that.

So that's how things were gonna be...

* * *

She had failed.

Failed and failed utterly and she had already almost cost her brother, cost the _love of her life _his… she could still see his blood arc through the air, sparkling black beads suspended in midair, the spray from his throat, opened and ragged, and that woman…

They were _blood, _but the blood that wretched _whore _spilled was more precious to Blake than any that ran through her own veins.

And now… now she would finish the job. She would take Jaune away from her _forever _and there was nothing Blake could do about it! She couldn't fight _Jaune's _command, his words were the Law itself. How rarely he took authority like this, and yet, his position was inescapably carved into their souls, the Darkness wrapped tight around them. They had lived their whole life waiting to receive these orders, to follow them, to _die for him..._

She wanted to shriek, to rage, to tear the whole _world _apart, human and Faunus and Grimm and everything _else _in it, but… but what was the point? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. _She _didn't matter.

Emerald was weeping, her eyes shut tight, trying to awaken from what had to be a bad dream. Pyrrha was in a daze, still standing to the side of the door, staring at it like she could make some _sense _of what had just happened. What else could they do?

No… no, this wasn't how it- it wasn't going to end like this! The pull of Jaune's orders were strong, but… but Blake wasn't just an automaton in his service. The Darkness pulsed in her. But she could fight the Darkness—she'd learned how to do it the hard way! If she had the strength to plot Treason against Mother, then she could do more, here and now! She had learned on this trip that there was _more _to her than just carrying out her brother's commands. That she was _right _to pursue her own interests. And those interests told her that the most important thing to Blake was… was making sure her brother was safe. Even if he no longer wished to live, Blake would not let him go. She would hold him back, she would make him see… they all would. They would save him and he would see. He just had to see!

"Pyrrha!" she barked, "We- we can't let this happen!"

"We can't," her sister wailed, "But what can we-"

"We can just stop him anyways!"

Pyrrha and Emerald looked at her, shocked. Disobedience to a direct order wasn't something they'd ever done before, but… they were clearly realizing, as she had, that the resistance to the thought wasn't as absolute as they had imagined.

She felt something boil and churn in her gut, but Blake knew what this was. She'd felt this before. It was the taste of _treason, _and she knew it better than any of them. When she first imagined a coup against Mother, the idea of putting Jaune on her throne, she had felt this same boiling inside her. It left her ill for _weeks, _taxing her to her limits to conceal the signs of her treachery, but it had taught her that this feeling was not invincible. All she needed was the _will _to overcome it, and with Jaune on the line...

"It's just in your- _urrrk- _it's in your mind! T-The Darkness isn't as s-strong as Mother wants you to think, j-just focus," she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like her body was burning from the inside out. But she'd done this before! _She could do it again! _"You just- just have to focus on _why _you're b-breaking the rules."

"For Jaune," Emerald murmured.

_Yes._

Every time they pulled him, half-mad from The Hole, Blake saw the _price _of their lives. Every night terror, every panic attack, every moment of horrible, crushing fear that Jaune had guided her through, everything he had done for her sisters—that was what she owed him. Her life was a debt unpaid. The boiling began to subside, the pain, though not dissipated, was weakening because Blake _knew what she was fighting for!_

"Pyrrha, you've never lost a fight before!" she shouted, perhaps a little too loudly, but she had to put every ounce of her strength into this. "And Emerald… you know you are! You aren't bound by what you're _supposed _to be, not anymore!"

They both seemed too shocked to say anything, buckled by the _roiling _pain now inside them, but Blake could see, could see it written so clearly on their faces, that they knew what was more important than pain. What their _highest law _was!

"He is in danger," she said, feeling the power coming back to her body. The Darkness within them was one of Mother's tools to control them, but Blake had figured out how to turn it into their own strength. All around her, she saw her sisters take in her words, their might coming back. "And we are our Prince's might, the _ruin _of his enemies. Pyrrha!" she cried, and her sister looked up, her emerald eyes sparkling with newfound hope, "Will you _let_ them take our brother?"

"I… will… not!" she growled through gritted teeth, clenching her fist.

"Emerald," Blake continued, "There are those in need of our Prince's justice. Will you mete it out?"

Emerald's hands shifted to wicked claws, terrible knives, all manner of weaponry. "I shall," she answered.

But now Blake turned to the fourth sister. In all of this, she hadn't looked up. None of Blake's words had gotten to her, if she had heard them at all. And Blake wasn't sure what to expect from that. Weiss was different from them. So much of who she _was _was subsumed by the Darkness, to the point that Blake didn't know if she could resist its influence upon her.

"Weiss," Pyrrha said gently, "We'll need to-"

But Weiss cut her off with a shake of her head. "He doesn't want us to."

Pyrrha looked back to Blake, unsure of what to do. "Weiss..." she said softly, "we need to do this, together. We have to save _Jaune, _he needs-"

"He doesn't want us to."

"But you have to-"

"He. DOESN'T," Weiss snapped, the overhead lights flickering as her anger _flashed,_ "WANT. US. TO."

Even Pyrrha was put on the back foot by that. Blake realized that this wasn't a fight she could win. Not when time was running out. Jaune had likely already departed for Vale, and they'd have to fight their way out—better to take on the Valean and Atlesian forces _here _than let them try to cut them off as they headed to the city. And with a demonstration of their power, the Kingdoms would _learn _that Jaune's safety meant _their _safety.

Placing a hand on Pyrrha's shoulder, Blake shook her head, telling her that it was a fight they couldn't win. Pyrrha nodded, sadly—leaving Weiss behind, in her suffering, was… _painful _in a way as deep and cruel as what they were facing with Jaune. But they were running out of time. Action was needed. Now.

She felt her hand brush the handle of her knife, the dark, enchanted blade Mother had presented to Pyrrha before they left. She felt the power within it swirl beneath her touch, a sign of the Darkness within she had mastered. It was the perfect weapon for Blake, dark and subtle and _sharp._ Hungry for blood, and Blake knew _exactly _whose life she'd wet it with.

"Girls," Pyrrha growled, "we're breaking through."

* * *

"We're an inch away from open war," Qrow mused, "and Ozpin thinks he can _talk _Jimmy out of this? I don't like this. I don't like _any _of this."

An _inch _was generous. They were at war, just a war where every single soldier and general was terrified to exhale, for fear that it would trigger the shot that turned a Kingdom into a bloodbath. Right now, Jaune's wild, doomed effort at diplomacy was surely all but over, no hope for… but Summer didn't like thinking about that. Thinking about what she had just led that boy off to.

For the second time in her life, she had been the one to deliver Jaune Arc, a _blameless innocent,_ over to evil.

"Well, it's not like anything _else _has been going so swimmingly," Amber idly replied, fiddling with her staff in her hands. "Either Ozpin talks him down or we're at war… we're at _war, _I can't, I can't _believe _it..."

Summer sighed. She knew they were nervous, they had damn good reason to be, and when they were nervous, they talked. The chatter wasn't great, but silence would be worse. For her, as much as them.

How had everything gone to hell on her watch? She could remember it so vividly in her mind. Moving to protect the Belladonnas as the assassin moved, shocked to see Blake turn into a black cloud and _exsanguinate _the man in front of her… so shocked, she hadn't realized that Kali was darting forward until it was too late. The flash of the hidden knife. The _spray _of black blood…

In an instant, the world went mad. Menagerie fighting Vale, Atlas somehow involved. Summer subdued Ghira Belladonna, Blake _savagely _attacked her own mother before she just... disappeared, Fall rushed Jaune back to his quarters, where… they had some kind of medicine for his unique physiology. Or, for all Summer knew in that moment, they didn't, that he was already dead or dying, and any moment she'd have heard a _shriek _as awful as the one she heard when his throat was first opened up. And then they'd have to deal with that tidal wave of grief and pain and _rage._

And as she was waiting to find out, telling Ozpin and the Council and _everyone _that she _just didn't know, _the whole world went to hell. She heard there were riots in the street. Valean forces were mobilized to full readiness, but it was too late. Suddenly, Atlas said "stand down" and some forces stood down. Some didn't. Either Atlas or Menagerie had attacked the facility the Belladonnas were being held in, but if it was an attack or if they just entered and took them without a shot, Summer didn't know. Rumors swirled in the absence of knowledge. She'd left multiple calls to her contacts at the Council, and none had called her back. The White Fang was either attacking or it was just panicked rumors—all Summer knew (or did she even know?) was that gunfire had been exchanged. Students were on lockdown, but they knew Beacon didn't have control over them. Disarming them was likely futile, not to mention antagonizing, and for all _they _knew, Atlesian students would soon be activated for the Military. Where Mistral and Vacuo stood, nobody knew. Where _Vale _stood... Summer didn't know.

Jaune's departure had been the first sign that, _maybe, _there was a way out of this. A detente that would allow them to get out without anyone stabbing anyone. But as Summer oversaw the handoff to the Valean security forces, she knew that this was all for show. They weren't his escort. They were just there to hand him off to the people who'd already made two attempts on his life. And if he'd come back from this...

She heard footsteps, and her hand rested on the hilt of her sword as she moved to anticipate the intruder. Behind her, Qrow kept talking, but it was clear, he was just keeping up appearances—his posture had shifted ever-so-subtly towards action. So had Amber's.

_Be ready for anything._

Stepping into the hallway, Summer saw someone she'd been hoping she wouldn't see, but knew she definitely would.

Specialists Ebi and Bree walked with a careful, purposeful stride. They were also armed, weapons displayed and at the ready.

"This is a secure area," Summer called out to them, "You are not authorized to be here."

They stopped, careful not to seem aggressive, but Summer knew that these were two of Atlas's best. Whatever relationship they had, whatever they'd done together over this event, they were _always _a threat.

Even if it _killed _her to think this.

Clover raised his hands, showing his empty palms. "We don't want a fight here, we're just relaying information regarding-"

"You are _not _in our chain of command," Summer replied tersely, "and you do not speak for the Council of-"

But Clover interrupted her.

"The Council of Vale has been formally dissolved by majority consent of the Council this morning. Atlas is assuming-"

"This is an _invasion?_" Summer gasped, eyes wide. She had thought of it all as an invasion, but… for it to actually _happen,_ to hear Clover _say _this… she had never _truly_ imagined things would go this far. To hear it out loud, as reality...

Clover knew this was difficult ground. Or, more accurately, that he knew he was saying bullshit, but he didn't have a choice but to say it. "It's not an invasion. But for the duration of the emergency, Vale's Council has voluntarily conceded domestic authority to the Atlesian military command under General Ironwood. And, with that authority granted to us, we are requesting-"

"I don't work for Vale," Summer said through gritted teeth, "My orders are from the _Committee. _And until they reconvene and tell us _otherwise, _my duty is to protect these children from _any _threats that present themselves. That includes _you, _Specialist Ebi."

"Clover," Qrow said, dismay thick in his voice, "You can't be- I mean, come on!" there was a sudden burst of anger, "You and I both know that this is-"

"We're not here to fight," Clover said, hands still raised, "We're outnumbered, and you have the Maiden. We're here to diplomatically request you peaceably surrender the delegation from the Grimmlands into our custody."

"What about Jaune?" Amber asked, "Is Jaune..."

Clover looked at her, his face a stone mask. "I… cannot say at this time. My orders were simply to take the claimed into custody to ensure their safety."

"Well, we're not gonna let you," Qrow replied, betrayal and heartbreak buried deep in his voice—but undeniably there.

Summer gave the Atlesians a curt nod. "As you said, you don't have the _force _to take them. So I would recommend you _depart _from this-"

She heard a door open. Behind her.

Turning around was a delicate ballet. Too quick, it might seem hostile. Too slow, and she might be hit by an ambush. But Summer was the best for a reason, and she turned to see what she both hoped to never see, and absolutely knew to expect.

It was three of the claimed. Pyrrha at the center, Blake and Emerald flanking. No sign of Weiss, which either meant she wasn't a part of this… or she had a trick up her sleeve that would put them in a very bad situation. Not that this situation wasn't already a very bad one, but there were a whole lot of ways it could become _worse._

Well, here went nothing.

Using her best mom voice, compassionate, but stern, Summer stared down Pyrrha. "Girls. You need to return to your quarters. It's for _your own_ safety."

"We're going to our brother," Pyrrha answered, a cold edge to her voice.

Summer looked Pyrrha in the eye, silver meeting emerald green. There was power in the air, electrical and _crackling, _the both of them wielders of supernatural forces that had never been tested against one another.

The future of the world stood before her, balanced on the edge of a knife. Fight them, and it'd be the first skirmish of a global war, one that might very well end with the survivors discovering what it meant to _truly _be a Remnant. Stand down, let them pass… Atlas wouldn't do the same. And the first thing Jacques Schnee would do if he knew his window for revenge was closing would be to _finish _the job. War was upon them, and the only question was what Summer would do in this time.

She was a warrior of Remnant, a Huntress of Vale, tasked with the protection of its people from the threat of the Grimm. And even if facing this Grimm threat filled her with a desperate and hopeless sorrow that it would come to this violence… she knew where her oaths lay. She knew what had to be done. But she wasn't going to turn to violence without _exhausting _all her other options.

"I know the situation is scary, but Pyrrha, please, this is a lockdown. You are not allowed to leave this space. Return to your room," she tried to seem strong, but couldn't hold back one last, desperate appeal. "_Please."_

It was a failure. Obvious to Summer as soon as she'd said it. Pyrrha's face betrayed no emotion. None of theirs did. Their brother was in danger and that was their only law.

"Sisters." Pyrrha said, not a trace in her voice of the young woman Summer had spent an afternoon talking with, _trying _to get through to her, one of her daughter's close friends, "Choose your targets."

Amber cut in, "Emerald, please!" she cried, desperately trying to reach through, "this isn't what-"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Amber," Emerald replied, but the sorrow in her voice was resolute, her mind made up, "But if you stand between us and our brother… we _will _do everything we have to."

"I'll take Qrow, then," Blake said, darkly.

"Kids… you're making a mistake here," Qrow said as though diplomacy was still on the table. "For the Brothers' sake, you can't- you _can't..." _his voice trailed off in hopeless desperation.

There was only one way forward.

Still, Summer had to _try!_

"Pyrrha!" she cried, "This isn't what Jaune wants-"

"Draw your weapon. I'll offer you that courtesy."

No emotion in her voice. This was the Eagle in the flesh, a body of bony plates and unmatched power, Salem's perfect killing machine. Whatever Summer felt, knowing that this was Yang and Ruby's friend, knowing that this was just a teenage girl… all softness, all tender sentimentality… they would not serve her well in battle.

So her hand reached back to Damask's hilt, wrapping her fingers around the familiar grip, the weapon she first brought to Beacon so many years ago, that had seen her through tournaments and missions and so many near death experiences. Her loyal sword, drawn from its sheath as smoothly as always. But for a purpose she'd never wished for it. Not ever. Behind her, she heard Clover and Harriet do the same, their weapons readied to fight the girl they'd seen on video demolish a forest in her anger. Amber tightened her grip on her staff as Qrow stared ahead in dismay. Across from them, resolute in their decision, stood three beings of terrible power, the likes of which no human being had ever faced before in combat. She felt the dark presence of the Grimm before her, a familiar heat and pressure behind her eyes building for a terrible release.

All hell was about to break loose.

**I think this might be the first chapter since 21 to have a section that's only men talking. Kind of what happens writing for a show with an overwhelmingly female cast, but I think that's interesting.**

**So, fight music coming back into the story! I see Pyrrha's fighting style, which you'll finally get to properly see in the next chapter, is best suited with Ennio Morriccone's "The Ecstasy of Gold," something awe-inspiring and sweeping. She's more like a natural disaster than a duelist. But Summer's one of Remnant's most dangerous fighters, and might be the one person in Vale who can check even the General of the Grimm Horde—heroically surging forward, I hear the theme song from _Brooklyn Nine-Nine _blatting behind her as she pulls out her rapier and main gauche, Damask and Gallica, ready to be a big damn hero.  
**

**Next up, it's a clash of the titans! One one side, the Daughters of Salem, unnaturally powerful warriors who've trained from childhood to conquer Remnant. On the other, a Maiden, a Silver-Eyed Warrior, two Atlesian Specialists, and Qrow's also there! Surely, terrible violence is about to be unleashed! A fight scene told over several chapters as Beacon becomes a warzone and you get to see what these girls can really do.  
**


	31. To Guard

**CW: Violence, Body Horror**

Emerald shot forward, her body morphing, sending the Fall Maiden dashing backwards from her wild, unpredictable assault. Blake swept out, cloaked in shadows, stalking her prey with predatory joy. But in truth, they weren't launching their assault: they were simply getting out of Pyrrha's way.

Because there was nothing in the world that could fight like Pyrrha.

As Summer Rose and the Specialists streaked across the room towards her, Pyrrha _reached _into her Armory, calling forth the countless weapons at her disposal. Swords, axes, maces, spears… they all floated about her, gripped by invisible hands, but all under her precise and exact command.

She was the Eagle.

Her Prince's might!

Pyrrha was a hurricane, a force of nature. She merely rolled forward, a hundred weapons descending upon her foes, dueling all three of them blow for blow as she swept forward, unstoppable, a _tide _of weaponry. Walls gave way from the pressure she exerted, her footsteps cracked the floor, her power on display as black flames began to lick up from her armor. Her opponents were skilled fighters, for sure, but...

They weren't in her league.

"Pyrrha!" Summer cried, "I don't want to hurt you!"

"THEN STAND ASIDE!" she roared.

But Summer would not yield. With a regretful sigh, she closed her eye, and then... opened them. There was an intense, blinding _flash _as white light engulfed the room, and an infinitesimal fraction of a second later, Pyrrha felt the _force _of those dreaded Silver Eyes set upon her, like the pressure wave of a bomb, making the Darkness inside her _scream._

But Pyrrha was more than her Darkness, and she could marshal it, even as it faced its anathema, and _force _it to aid her, just as she'd forced it to obey her as she fought off Jaune's command. She channeled the pain into fury and with a roar of _rage, _forced it outwards, _hurling _all three of her opponents backwards.

Pyrrha had never faced a Silver Eyed warrior in person, but she knew that they were powerful. Something to be _wary _of. Summer's eyes were powerful enough to check even her powers, sealing her rage. But it wasn't enough to _stop _her. Just slow her down. Summer was stunned. "H-how?" she asked, her voice hollow, trying to process how her Silver Eyes didn't give her the edge in this battle.

"I am more than _anything _you can defeat," Pyrrha growled back.

She could still feel the force of the blast across her body. Her body felt stiff, even sluggish as that silver power tried to bind her in place, checking her ability to vent her rage upon them and splinter their bodies with her fury, and, yes, she still felt the _pain _of that blinding, white-hot _power, _but Pyrrha was more than some common Grimm. She was the Eagle! She was war incarnate!

There was nothing here that could contest with her!

Summer snatched her communicator and barked out, "Security Chief Rose to RENEGADE: GOLD command! We are at Midnight, under attack by the claimed! At Midnight!"

Pyrrha savored the panic, the _fear _in her voice. They'd prepared for this possibility, but they'd never _believed _this moment could come. And whatever they had prepared… Pyrrha always wondered how it'd feel to go up against a battleship...

Countless blades from her Armory encircled her. Even if she couldn't simply _crush _her opponents with her rage, she raised two great steel wings and then... unleashed a _barrage _of daggers, swords, spears, and every other manner of destruction! Summer's blades flashed, a _cloud _of rose petals blooming from every sweep as she deflected, parried, and countered as much as she could… but she was only one woman, even _with _her Semblance. The other two were forced on the back foot, assaulted by Pyrrha's wave of weaponry.

But only for a moment: Specialist Bree streaked forward—a speed Semblance, evidently—but speed didn't _matter _when every approach was blocked by whirling and sweeping blades. And without speed on her side, she was no match for a dozen attacks all at once, forcing her backwards. Stupid girl. The Armory was deployed, hundreds and hundreds of swords and spears and axes, whirling with deadly precision and unmatched force. And the Specialist's metal arms were suddenly on the defensive as she tried her best to fight a _storm._

The other Atlesian, Ebi, Emerald's friend—and that thought put a _pain _deep in Pyrrha's breast, though snuffed out by the knowledge that this man would stand between her and _Jaune—_flung a horseshoe at her. Of all things… but his timing was good, he'd found an opening in her screen of floating blades, and Pyrrha had to deflect the missile with her own hand.

She'd give them this—these were some of the best Remnant had to offer. Even if there were only three of them, against a hurricane of weaponry. Summer Rose was nearly a hurricane herself, her rapier and main gauche nearly imperceptible, a blur of metal cloaked in a cloud of red and white rose petals. Artful, even beautiful, but she was still playing defense as Pyrrha strode towards her. She drew a greatsword from her Armory, one of _Jaune's _swords, and she knew that _none _could stand against her in a direct fight.

"Summer! Now!"

Specialist Ebi cried out, and Pyrrha briefly paused to see what their gambit might be. Summer Rose, it seemed, was even better than she appeared, a sudden surge of blows, too fast for even Pyrrha to track, knocked the cloak of steel before her aside, sending swords and axes and partizans and halberds and daggers scattering as she shot forward, a red and white streak. No matter, Pyrrha had _even more blades _to throw at-

Ha, it was a fakeout to distract her from Bree! The specialist launched her assault, snapping forward, even weaving through Pyrrha's storm of blades to get within striking distance… nearly. Pyrrha's elbow shot out, catching the Specialist right in the face, shattering her nose with a titanic blow. She'd give her this—that would have taken the head off a woman with less aura. But now Pyrrha hand a hand around her neck and-

AAAAAGGGGH!

A blade caught her across the face as she dropped the Specialist to the ground. A- a _double fakeout? _Pyrrha looked to the man who had thrown his fishing hook-like sword at her, now recalling it to his hands. Even with these distractions, she shouldn't have missed his weapon flying at her! He couldn't- he'd _cloaked his sword with her own blades! _The timing on that was- was _impossible!_

"Lucky shot," she growled, feeling the Darkness within her heal the cut he'd left, black smoke _sizzling _as Grimmstuff knit the tear back together.

He just smiled back. "Sort of my deal," he taunted.

A shameful injury to suffer from one of her _lessers. _Well, she just had to pull out something luck _couldn't_ help with!

She pulled even more from her Armory, the heavy weaponry, the things too weighty and clumsy to be useful in a fight like this. But she didn't call them to her side, oh no. She had use of them _above._

"Clover!" Summer cried, still fighting the Armory as best she could as a woman alone, but impressively aware enough to realize what was going on, "The ceiling, it's-"

Too late. With a great grinding _groan, _a shower of rubble dropped from above, and the Specialist realized that he had nowhere to run as he braced himself for the ceiling to collapse above him. She had summoned part of her Armory on the floor above and used her tremendous strength to _pull _it down. No luck to save him here.

Distracted by the rain of construction materials, he was easy prey for Pyrrha to simply _smash _him out of the way with a mace, the blow sending him hurtling through the wall outside. He'd be out of the fight now for sure, from the drop if nothing else, leaving only one opponent left.

Surrounded by her weapons, raising them back up as two great steel _wings,_ Pyrrha stepped forward, wreathed in black flames and fury. Summer held her ground, giving no quarter as she kept her rapier and parrying dagger at the ready. There was a cold fury, a warrior's intensity in her eyes, her Silver Eyes, but focused by duty and discipline. They were, in a way, kindred spirits: the greatest warrior of Remnant facing the greatest warrior of the Grimmlands. Neither of them were normal humans, Pyrrha owed her a chance to surrender.

"You can't win this fight."

"Care to prove it?"

Her eyes flashed. So did Pyrrha's. With a scream of rage and determination, both women tore forwards into battle.

* * *

Dodge. Roll right. Anticipate the fakeout. Strike and strike and strike and strike!

She'd practiced for years to become the deadliest woman on the planet. Practiced _religiously, _desperate to prove that she hadn't been a mistake, that she had a place in her family, and it had taught her how to make all of this nightmarish moment as reflexive as any other training exercise, her claws and tentacles and countless Grimm attacks swinging with lethal precision.

But... all Emerald's blows, each one as sharp and poisonous and precise as Cinder had taught her came to nothing as Ms. Amber showed that a Maiden was just as dangerous as Emerald had been warned.

She knew that Maidens were the fiercest warriors in all of Remnant. Empowered by ancient magic and capable of feats no other human could _possibly _attempt. As Emerald surged forward, Amber moved to the air, her graceful levitation putting her in a perfect position to slice down the tentacles that shot forth to drag her back down. For Emerald, who fought with surprise and subterfuge more than directly, this was likely the toughest foe she could possibly be brought against.

But the fact that this was _Amber _was what made it truly difficult.

A hail of jagged ice shards buffeted her as she held her arms up to block, hardening her skin against the slicing winds Amber threw her way. A potent attack, but Amber could do _much _worse, bringing out any number of elemental magics—real magic, the kind Mother knew—from within her soul and striking at Emerald with attacks she couldn't entirely prepare for.

But Amber was holding back. She fought enthusiastically, hurling bolts of ice and fire while throwing Emerald back with mighty gusts of wind, but at the same time, Emerald could read that she was a cagey fighter. There was more to her than just the moves Emerald was seeing right now… something that made Emerald painfully realize that Amber was fighting quite a bit like she did.

Amber had magic, _real _magic, the kind like Mother did, and that brought in a whole slew of options that, for once, Emerald didn't actually know how to read. A twitch of her eye could me shards of ice or a jet of flame. The way her hand tensed either meant the wind was unleashed or Amber was about to try to strike her with her staff. If it wasn't in such an emotionally horrible moment where she was brought to fight someone she cared for so much, Emerald would have been ecstatic to have this chance to duel her. Which made it even more painful as Emerald leapt forward, her fingers turned to razors as she viciously slashed at the Fall Maiden.

But… it could be worse.

She _didn't _want to fight Qrow. She couldn't. But could she fight Clover? Could she even fight _Amber? _From the way Amber dodged Emerald's furious assault, she knew she was moving a step too slow, her attack too obvious to claim she was a really giving this her best effort. Emerald knew what was at stake, knew that she couldn't _bear _to be the weak link—that her siblings couldn't afford for her to slip up now—but this was a challenge unlike anything Emerald had ever expected. Cinder had always taught her to be emotionless in her dealings, to carry out justice as coolly, neutrally, and professionally as befit an assassin. But that was to check her _joy, _to not let her enthusiasm at carrying out her brother's will cause her to make mistakes.

How different this was—she was carrying out a mission in direct contradiction of Jaune's orders and she was struggling with the anguish of having to fight someone she _very much did not want to!_

But this anxiety made her hesitant, and that was lethal in a fight against a Maiden. She'd frozen for a half-second, too indecisive to make a strike or pull back, and Amber had seized the initiative, her staff raised, the _smell of ozone in the air-_

Emerald knew what was about to happen.

No time to think, just react. Bolt moved faster than thought, and reflex caused Emerald to _split _her head, right down the middle, her eyes becoming literally unfocused as depth perception failed, right and left now pointing in radically different directions. Her th-thoughts, _nyugh,_ j-jittered as th-the electricity-laden air interfered with her neurons for a second, but as swiftly as it happened, it passed, and Emerald had successfully dodged the bolt… though, as her brain and skull swiftly knitted itself back together, it didn't leave her in a good place.

Even though she was in a fight for her life, a fight that would almost certainly end with _one _of their deaths… Emerald _cringed _as she glanced to Amber, terrified of what she would see on her face. She'd split her own head open, made her brains visible to the whole world, and she'd surely _disgusted _the Maiden. Another reminder that she _wasn't _like her sisters, that she was a gross freak who couldn't even use her powers in a _cool_ way, just a disgusting, unnatural-

"Damn," Amber whistled, "That was actually pretty cool! Can you do that-"

'What?" Emerald asked, now legitimately stunned.

Amber just shrugged. "I mean, I just thought it was cool, you know? Didn't think anyone could dodge lightning like that, it's something I only pull out when I _really _have to end the fight in a hurry, but-"

Wait, no! Emerald knew what this was!

"You're trying to trick me!" she spat, "I won't fall for it!"

But her opponent didn't seem to be listening. No, if anything, she seemed _genuinely _excited in a way that made Emerald uncomfortable, like she was either being a jerk who couldn't accept a good thing or a sucker who was falling for an _obvious _scam.

"Hold up, hold up, hold up—can you dodge _this!_" Amber cried, raising her staff and summoning a great _gust _of icy wind, like a rain of a thousand razor-sharp daggers. Caught flat footed, there was no time to harden her skin against it, and instead had to let her body _ripple, _slipping narrowly between icy blades, feeling the _chill _as they passed. Whipping around, she watched their sparkling trail as they embedded themselves deep in the wall behind her.

Even in the circumstances she was in, Emerald couldn't help but feel a _little _smug as she turned back to Amber.

"Holy _shit!_" Amber exclaimed, "That was gods-damned amazing! Absolutely- totally fucking amazing! Hold on, I got another that you _won't _be able to dodge!"

Emerald couldn't resist cracking a smile at that. "Bring it!" she taunted.

* * *

Marching through the streets of Vale felt… it all felt _off. _Adam was no stranger to leading men, certainly no stranger to violence, but he'd only ever _imagined _doing something like this, something so far from their usual tactics of hit-and-run raids. They were public, more public than ever, making a _show _with their double-column procession, weapons on display. Peacekeepers, security forces, that strange middle ground between invaders and policemen.

Adam had grown up with men like this walking the streets of Faunus communities. Thuggish bullies who cloaked violence in law. Well, now the tables had turned. Now _they _were the ones with the power, and Vale was getting a taste of what every Faunus already knew.

None dared contest them. Right now, nobody probably knew well enough to know _what _the hell was going on. He'd seen some trembling humans clear out, unwilling to try to contest them as they held the streets.

Adam had to admit: this felt good. Powerful. He'd always pictured that, one day, he'd patrol _his _streets, asserting the White Fang's power over any Kingdom's authority. Never thought it might look anything like this, in what was probably the opening salvos of a truly massive war, but when they wrote the histories… they'd know that Adam and the White Fang had been in the streets for when _justice _would be brought to the enemy of all...

Well, seemed that he'd been counting on his reward a little too early. Seemed that there were still some people who were stupid or crazy enough to start shit with them.

Standing on a low rooftop, leaning on a cane with a jaunty tip of his bowler hat, the figure of Roman Torchwick was unmistakably public and present. His hip cocked at a jaunty swagger, a casual grin like he was just taking a stroll. This was a man who wanted all eyes on him, and a man who knew how to pull a con job, so Adam knew he was walking into a trap, but… these were _his _men. Not the ordinary rabble, untrained and excitable youths. If this street thief thought they'd break into a panic just because of a simple bait and switch, he'd find that he was facing a much more _disciplined _foe.

Adam halted his men and stepped forward, looking at the foppishly ridiculous career criminal. Being in the White Fang meant that Adam had long been in the orbit of others who were outside the reach of the law, and he'd known similar men to this... Torchwick. Tailored suits and expensive cigars, fat on the corruption and dark corners _humans _loved to hide in their gleaming cities. Men who _loved _to hear themselves talk. No use trying to deny him his spotlight—he'd take it no matter what Adam did.

"Let me guess," he growled up at the man, "that bitch, the one who betrayed her entire _species _to the monsters, she promised you a reward? A nice payday for throwing your lot in with the end of the world?"

"My, my, my, so suspicious..." he chuckled, "But this is our city," the thief proclaimed with a casual twirl of his cane, "and I think you're about to learn that Valeans will _fight_ for Vale."

"For Vale?" he raised an eyebrow, feeling the raw _power _of his Semblance _thrum _in the palm of his hands, "You'd throw in your lot with the enemy of all living things… Mr. Torchwick," he laughed, as casual as it was fake, "I've done some _terrible _things to humans, I won't deny, but even _I _wouldn't condemn your countrymen to the Grimm so _monstrously."_

Torchwick just threw his head back and countered with a deliberately obnoxious laugh. "Why, _Monsieur Taureau,"_ he cried, in some _wretched _parody of a Valean accent, "you have so much to learn about Valean culture! What is life if not lived dangerously? What is wine, without the tannins? A cheese that does not smell like death? Ze love poetry without ze metrical inversion, no, no, no _Monsieur Taureau, _we men of Vale, we live life _boldly!"_

Was he… _mocking him?_ His voice was shifting into an exaggerated Valean patois, and with every syllable Adam _knew_ was bait, incredibly obvious bait, he sure was _starting to get real fucking pissed off!_

Leaping from the rooftop and landing with an elaborate, theatrical flourish, that made Adam _hate the man even more, _Torchwick gave a cocky grin and opened his mouth to say some other _idiot thing, _but Adam's Semblance was fully charged up!

Gripping Wilt, he furiously tore it free from the scabbard, the _roar _of energy unleashed as he unsheathed the blade and released the fiery red power from within his soul as-

As...

As he heard the sound of shattering glass as the beam struck the thief.

Adam knew to anticipate Semblances, but this was a rare one. And one he wouldn't get a chance to react to.

A shattering blow to the back of his head came down before he could even move. The thief had some kind of illusion/teleportation trick, or some other idiotic gimmick that wouldn't _save him, _but it did let him get a cheap shot in.

And not just with the cane.

"Hon hon hon!" he laughed, affecting that _ludicrous godsdamned accent_, "You fell for the oldest trick in the book, _toi idiot!"_

With a roar of fury, Adam swung his blade, only for the thief to dodge backwards with a laugh. And while Adam was a berserker, he knew that giving in to his anger right now would leave him open to a counter attack, one _counting _on him seeing red. So instead of charging the thief, Adam pulled back, a sharp blade only _barely _missing his throat as the thief's companion revealed herself. A little girl with a parasol sword… why did they always have to be _so godsdamned_ _ridiculous?_

Hell with it, ridiculous or _not, _Adam would kill them all the same!

But even with their ambush blown, the thieves didn't seem too put out. Most assassins were really only worth their first shot, but this was more than an assassination, wasn't it? All around him, Valean irregulars, whether criminal thugs or nationalists, were swarming out from the nearby buildings to join in the fight against his men, and while Adam had confidence in his troops, he also knew that this was only the beginning. As he crossed blades with the pink-haired moppet, he could hear gunfire open up that wasn't aimed at his side or _from_ his side.

It seemed that the powder keg had been lit.

* * *

Hell.

Qrow looked at the girl across the room from him. The others, they had just snapped right into action, hadn't they, throwing blades and punches and every kind of trick in the book, first chance they got. He could hear the blows being exchanged all up and down and everywhere, masonry turned to rubble, Amber throwing thunderbolts, and all sorts of hell getting unleashed. And that just left him and Blake, in the shattered remains of the security cordon, both just waiting for the other to make the move, one of them clearly much more confident in her odds in this fight than the other.

But she wasn't going to take the first strike. No, she had that catlike approach. Toying with him. Fitting with the ears and all. Except… no, Qrow was starting to get an idea of what was going on here. Enough of a guess to give him a wildy risky ploy that might just save him by the skin of his teeth.

"Before we get to the fighting and slashing and killing each other," he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible as his heart rate spiked, "you mind if I smoke?"

"A last cigarette?" the kid sneered, cruelly, "I suppose I could grant you that _dignity._"

"Thanks," Qrow replied breezily, taking out a cigarette and his lighter. He glanced to the Grimmified Faunus girl. "You don't smoke, right?"

"I don't," she answered crisply.

"Well, I'd offer you one if you did. But…" he lit his cigarette carefully, "in the event that I don't… get to finish this pack, I'd appreciate it if it made it into the hands of someone who could use it."

"Anyone in mind?"

Her answer was biting and sarcastic. Refreshing. Qrow _lived _on that in his ordinary life, and he knew that was something he needed now more than ever. This was insanity, but her answer gave him some normalcy—well, normal-ish-cy—he could cling on to. Something that told him this wasn't out of his grasp.

"Well, I get the feeling," he answered, dryly, "not everyone I know's gonna make it to the other side of today, you know? So I'll just content myself with knowing that someone's saving a couple Lien when I'm not able to finish this." He tossed the pack to Blake, who adroitly caught it out of the air.

Taking a long drag, he felt the rush of nicotine that he desperately, _desperately _needed. But that sharpened his wits to remind him that the only resource he had was time, and he just burned away a good chunk of what he had just for that nicotine rush.

Hell of a thing to be the mistake that ended his life, but it was appropriate in it's own way. Just the kind of bad luck that he'd spent his whole life dealing with. It was a wry thought, the kind of bitter humor that kept him going in the day to day, and it had been exactly what he needed to give him some perspective on what was going on.

Blake wasn't toying with him. No, that was the easy read—Qrow knew to dig deeper. She was off kilter. _Rattled. _Even if she didn't look it. Dangerous territory, and instability made prediction damn hard to rely on, but Qrow knew a little bit about the woman scanning him like a bartender trying to assess if he had Lien or talk when it came to his tab. Her brother's injury and her feeling of betrayal, by her own family… she was trying to reassert herself. Her _identity. _And how did she do that? Well, she was the family intelligence agent, wasn't she? Qrow had gotten her to open up before by talking shop. Now he was going to try to take her head on.

"Do me one favor," he cut in, suddenly. Blake's eyes narrowed at the impertinence of his demand, her patience short, but Qrow wasn't going to let this slide. "When your sister… Tell Emerald… whatever you tell her…" he sighed in the hopelessness of his request, "Just… take care of her, okay?"

As a gambit, it was a stupid one. But Qrow wasn't really making gambits here. It was time to pray for a miracle, or, failing that, show her the sincerity of who he was. Someone who really did care for Emerald, someone who damn well wanted to live to see her break out of her past and _thrive _like he saw her do in that ice cream parlor what seemed like an _eternity _ago. And he was taking a bet that Blake wanted that for her, too.

A twitch of her eye. A crack in her facade. For someone as composed as Blake, that was practically _weeping. _But it was banished quickly. "She knows what we have to do," she answered darkly, "We've prepared our whole lives to protect Jaune. And we'll do whatever we have to do, pay whatever price it takes. Emerald knows that. Just like I do."

Something furious and twisted got knotted up in Qrow's chest. This- _they were kids! _Blake was as old as Yang, who Qrow had to talk out of buying a motorcycle "to impress chicks" just a few months ago! The _injustice _of it all, to see someone born into a situation like that… like he and Raven had been, only so much worse. So, so much worse. Nobody should ever have had an worse childhood than what the Branwen tribe put them through! It made him _mad._

That anger came to his lips as a gurgled protest against the universe. "You, your sisters-" he cried, "You're not killers! This isn't who you have to-"

"I've killed before!" she snapped, and Qrow reeled to hear it. He'd worked with killers and triggermen all his life, and he knew a lie when he heard one. This wasn't a lie.

"On the orders of the Queen, you- you were a _child!" _he argued back, perhaps trying to convince himself more than his opponent.

"Is that what you think..." She smiled. And _smiled. _Row upon row of jagged, shark-like teeth that seemed to go into an infinite pit of teeth and blackness. Ho-lee hell, that was definitely something more than-

_She's trying to scare you._

Qrow didn't trust the read he'd personally been able to get on Blake, but he trusted Yang enough to bet his life on her intel. And Yang… Yang had seen the real Blake. An 18 year old girl, dealing with traumas and fears Qrow could hardly even imagine. Yang had seen this girl on a bad day, maybe not this bad, but she'd looked right past it… because Blake was all about fronts. She was in intelligence, after all, just like Qrow was.

The pieces were coming together. Why was she trying to _scare _him? She was holding all the cards here, and she knew it. Was she toying with him? Or did she want him to think she was toying with him? To get in his head to make him… to make him think she's a monster. To make him give up on her.

It all added up. Lashing out preemptively. Making people think you're a monster so you can feel that you're in control of when people are angry or scared of you. When you're so _frightened _of what people think of you that you'd rather make sure they hate you just you _know._ Qrow could have kicked himself for being such a godsdamned idiot that he never realized this when he _first _was tasked with talking to her!

She was acting just like Raven did when _she _was her age.

A long shot. It was a _hell _of a long shot, and counting on Qrow having learned something of value from the biggest failure in his entire _life,_ but it was the one strategy Qrow had left. Keep her talking. Qrow had seen what she'd done to that assassin, and he didn't fancy his chances against _that. _He could feel the heat of the ember at the end of his cigarette, closer and closer, almost out of time. But if he could just keep her talking, maybe, just maybe...

There might be a way out of this nightmare.

****Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter! And 700 followers! Incredible!  
****

**Making a bit of a stylistic/canon ruling that it's generally easier for Huntsmen to render other Huntsmen unconscious rather than dead, thanks to Aura. Killing someone who's actively fighting you either takes a really massive attack (like Pyrrha used on Penny in canon) or you have to actively keep going past when their Aura breaks. So Harriet's still alive, but Pyrrha was very much in the process of strangling her when Clover interrupted.**

**Roman brings some very necessary levity to this moment, being a ludicrous asshole to trick Adam into launching a shot too early... but that's just what he'd tell you. He really just did it because he loves being a ludicrous asshole, with or without tactical advantage. But the rest of the fights here are uglier, as much a mire of skill and psychology. You can see the outlines of Amber and Qrow's strategies already, but**** these fights can't go on forever, and, eventually, one side has to win.  
**


	32. To Rule

**You might have missed Chapter 31, due to the issues with new uploads FFN was having last week.**

Sword met sword and sword and _sword _as Damask and Gallica did all they could to weather the _storm _of blades coming at her. Rapier and parrying dagger made for an exceptional dueling weapon, but this wasn't a duel, wasn't a one-on-one fight, even if it was only against a single opponent. Still, she was more than any other Huntress in the world, Ozpin's right-hand woman, for a _reason, _even before you got to the power of her Silver Eyes. Damask and Gallica whirled, leaving a trail of white and red rose petals as Summer single-handedly dueled an _army's _worth of weapons. Deflecting, dodging, countering, feinting—she threw _everything _she had at her opponent if, for nothing else, to slow her down and _contain _this situation.

Pyrrha was a horde, and Summer was just one woman, doing all she could to endure the _onslaught _that constantly drove her backwards, further and further into the school. Walls burst open as stray attacks crumpled wood, stone, and steel like they were paper. She narrowly dodged a halberd on a wide, upwards sweep—it struck a light fixture that exploded into a shower of sparks. From Summer's knowledge of the school's layout, she didn't have much _building _left until she'd be on the edge of where the students were. Any thought that she might consider them possible backup was easily quashed as she narrowly deflected a spray of daggers just in time to dodge a mace that took out most of a wall. Summer knew this was dangerous, not only in the risk of collateral damage, but also the many, many ways this could further spiral from bad to worse.

And as she narrowly vaulted over a shield wall that knocked out another wall behind her, causing the ceiling to take a dangerous slant, Summer was very much thinking about _worse._

Her mind shot through possible outcomes. All of them bad, of course, all of them disastrous, but some less so than others. One thing Summer _had _noted already was that the claimed's goals were tied to getting out of here—once Clover and Harriet had been incapacitated, Pyrrha hadn't finished them off, even though Summer couldn't do much to _stop _her if she tried. Their priority was clearly getting to Jaune. If the Beacon forces couldn't handle the claimed, they would head to Vale—crossing the Emerald Forest at speed would be difficult, but hijacking a Bullhead wouldn't be. Atlas would know their best bet would be with overwhelming firepower and try to take them out with the gunships. And, judging by the girl she was fighting right now, the girl whose powers were _considerably reduced _by a full dose of pure anti-Grimm _light, _she likely had decent odds that she could take down even the flagship by herself.

A hostage situation between Atlas and the claimed, with Jaune as the hostage, couldn't exactly end well. If, for no other reason than the fact Atlas _didn't _have him as a hostage, he was in the hands of the people who'd already tried to _murder _him. And if he had some kind of gambit…

Summer saw her opening, dodging past a flying maul that splintered the floor where she had been standing a fraction of a moment ago. With a spin and twist, she leapt into the air, over a volley of spears and landing in a roll that left her in the perfect place to stab forward with Damask, forcing Pyrrha to step back and try to fight her with her _actual _weaponry, a sword and shield distressingly similar to her mother's champion weapons.

Summer had never fought Alcestis—thanks to Summer's short tournament career, they'd just barely missed each other—but something about this duel made her think of nothing more than her old tournament bouts from back when she had Qrow as her partner, the two of them learning from each other, the sunny optimist and the reserved cynic, but it was those moments of them _fighting _that had always made Summer feel alive. Dodging and leaping, stuttering her Semblance to make her an unhittable _flurry _of blades. She ducked under a greatsword and sidestepped another, parried a mace, and thought of all the times she'd fought like a demon in her past!

Nostalgia wasn't an aid in a time like this. She had to _think, _especially because "beating the greatest warrior of the Grimm" wasn't looking like a viable option.

"Pyrrha," she barked, hoping that an alternative plan might work where martial skill wouldn't, "Every- _nng-_ second I slow you down, your plan becomes more and more fraught! If you _stand down _now, you've got a chance to back off and we can help you!"

"Help me?" Pyrrha asked, as Summer had to flash past a spinning wave of axes, "You can _step aside. _You- you _humans _can't be trusted!" she cried, stomping her foot down with a stone-splintering _crash, _"Jaune _tried _to reach out to you, _tried _to help you, and _you _tried to kill him!"

Another shower of masonry as more of the ceiling collapsed. Outside was looking better and better before Pyrrha brought the whole _building_ down on them both. Summer was pretty sure Pyrrha would survive it, but she was less confident on how many tons of debris her own aura could endure. "That's just _it, _Pyrrha! Your brother was attacked by a rogue conspiracy! They are _our_ enemy, too! Stop fighting, work with us," she pleaded, "and I guarantee you, we will do everything we can to save your brother. _Together."_

"No," Pyrrha responded, her voice… _mournful, _even as her attack did not slow, "It's all of you. You- you could have stopped this! You are _all _our enemies. Anyone who isn't one of us is an enemy, and forgetting that-" her voice suddenly spiked into a shriek of rage, "_nearly killed my brother!"_

Diplomacy would not work. Combat had only succeeded in pushing her _out _of a building. Summer wasn't sure what _else _she had in her pocket, but it had damn well better be _something _before she got herself killed!

* * *

It had started as a tactic.

A strategy to exploit Emerald's psychological weaknesses, her insecurities, her need for praise, but as she carried out the strategy, Amber realized that these weren't just Emerald's weaknesses.

They were Amber's as well.

Baiting the girl into falling for her trick had only made Amber remember that this wasn't a shapeshifting monster, but a girl who was so _dear _to her. Someone Amber cared for… who was hurting. And Amber… Amber couldn't _bear _to see her in pain like this.

So her attempts to throw Emerald off her game, to switch to a more playful way of fighting that'd let them deescalate into something _not _murderous had only succeeding in causing them _both _enormous pain. Qrow would have a good laugh about it, though… thinking of Qrow reminded Amber that she had _no _idea what was going on with him and Blake. From the sound of things, Summer and the Atlesians were still fighting Pyrrha, but from the sound of the fighting… sounded a lot more like Pyrrha was fighting the entire building and maybe some of Amber's friends were caught up in it.

All around her was fighting. The best and brightest talents of Vale and Atlas pitted against three kids who should be doing _anything _other than being raised as war machines. As she and Emerald traded furious blows, all Amber could think of was when this _same _girl had nervously asked them, totally without any guile or suspicion, in the midst of discussing their _pizza _preferences, how to know if she was a lesbian. This was the girl who'd supposedly been seized from the streets by the Vacuan Royal Family and cast off to the Grimmlands. She'd been through hell, an unimaginable _hell, _and she'd come out of it a wonderful young woman who _shouldn't be in a situation that could only be solved with fighting!_

It was so frustrating, so _infuriating _that Amber couldn't find a way out of it. They both were locked in an inescapable conflict where Amber couldn't let Emerald leave the school grounds, to avoid setting off a war, but how could Emerald stand down while her brother was in danger? It was just so… so…

Hell. There was another option, stupid as it was.

Amber stopped fighting.

Her feet touched the ground as she let go of her powers. Emerald held her distance, wary of what might happen, but Amber made no inclination of attacking… and neither did Emerald.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice sounding more haggard and exhausted than she thought it ever could. "I don't. I want to _help _you Emerald, and I _don't know how."_

She could see the tremble across Emerald's whole body. The stifled desperation of two women both caught in an inescapable and desperate situation.

"I'm… I'm not Qrow," she admitted, "but before I met you, I didn't think Qrow was good for _anything _other than telling you what bar watered down their drinks, or- or telling you about why his life was so unfair, but he- _somehow- _stepped it up when you needed him." Once again, Amber's inner monologue was _screaming _at her that she was just making an awful mess of things, that she had no _business _trying to relate to a teenager, _but what the hell else could she do? _

With whatever force she could muster to her voice, she continued, "And if Qrow could do it, however he did it, then I've… I've gotta try."

The trace of a sob was caught up in those last words. Amber knew she was on shaky ground, dangerous ground, but, hell, she'd been in mortal peril ever since she first gained these powers. When Ozpin told her the life she was about to undertake… he told her, he told her that, the most she could do… is try to do what's right. Try to be a good person, to protect the weak, to aid the innocent, and… and to hope for the best. Hope that the girl standing across from her, frozen in pure indetermination, was the girl she _knew._

"Emerald," she asked, "what can we do?"

Her facade cracked. Eyes watering, lips trembling, her legs turning shaky as Emerald looked Amber and the eyes and finally began to break down.

"I don't know," she whimpered.

Amber had powers beyond anyone else on the _continent. _She could, if she really threw down, beat Summer _and _Qrow. When she really flexed her might, she felt _invincible. _She smashed Grimm hordes like they were nothing, using the fundamental forces of nature as easily as though it was just _natural _that she could call down fire and lightning. Like there was _nothing in the world _that could possibly stop her, even _challenge _her.

But now… right now, Amber was more vulnerable, more powerless, than she had ever felt. It was just her and a teenage girl, the _same _girl who'd nervously asked her how to know if she was a lesbian, and… and had fought her as though she would have _killed _her if she was given the chance. What _could _she know, what could either of them know about what to do now? Amber had been disillusioned by leaders and authority figures ever since she'd been given these powers, but right now, she _really _needed someone who could just tell her what to do.

But from the sounds of things, Summer and Qrow, her role models, had the same answer: fight. That's what they'd do. Fight each other, tear each other apart, just show off their power and see who's left standing. Because that's all there was in this _stupid world! _Just violence and killing and people hating each other because nobody knew how to make it _stop!_

Least of all her.

"I..." her voice cracked as she martialed it to something sounding like confidence, "I don't know what to do, either. But… I can throw out something and see if it works. Emerald!" she declared, the girl almost jumping to hear her name proclaimed so forcefully, "I am not going to fight you."

Punctuating her remarks, she cast her staff aside, her arms open wide. Emerald had every reason to see this as a trick, as psychological manipulation or a way to get her close before unleashing a final blow. There was no reason to trust her, and yet...

Emerald sprang forward, but not in an attack. She wrapped her arms around Amber, as direct and innocent as she had when she'd first admitted she wasn't sure if she liked girls. Amber held her, and Emerald held her back, the two of them completely lost, but, at least, they had each other to lean on.

"But- but-" Emerald whimpered, "what do we _do?"_

"We'll figure something out," she said, holding Emerald as tight as she could. "We'll figure something out. I promise."

* * *

Time was running out.

Blake lived her life by the power of schedules. Finding the habits, the routines, the acts of familiarity that all things, humans, Faunus, Grimm, even water and air, trended towards. The paths of least resistance. All the world was forever in motion, an endless series of gears in an impossibly grand and complicated clock, and Blake knew that learning those patterns was the secret to victory.

Every millimeter that burned down that thin white tube of paper was just that much closer to the moment of their battle. Qrow puffed at it in no particular hurry, but Blake appreciated he didn't seem to be deliberately slowing the process down. Trying to _stall _her. Though she could tell from the scent of the smoke that there wasn't that much tobacco left—he must have smoked it all the way down to the filter. She gave him a skeptical look.

"When you live on a teacher's salary," he told her, dryly, "you learn to get every last shred of tobacco."

Then he flicked the spent butt aside, the ember sparkling through the air as it bounced off the floor. Blake's focus narrowed. Time slowed down. She could read every miniscule flicker of movement in his body, could tell _exactly_ where his attack would be coming from so she could effortlessly counter his futile efforts and _smash _his feeble offense. She only had to see the barest hint of movement and she could teach him how _stupid _it was to fight one of the Daughters of Salem!

She waited. He was faking her out, trying to analyze her patterns. Trying to get in her head. Wasn't going to work. Blake _knew _his only hope would be in launching a quick, decisive strike against her—the only advantages he might have over her is greater physical strength, and he really only had one way to bring that to bear against her.

Not one to be underestimated, Blake figured. He wouldn't be waiting her out unless he had a _reason _for it. But what angle could he have? Giving _her _the first strike would be suicide—he'd seen what she'd done to that assassin. And Blake had seen him get thrown aside by Pyrrha during Parents Night. She knew he didn't have any particular tricks that'd stand out to her. What was he thinking?

He did nothing.

Nothing.

Blake was facing a trained intelligence operative for the Kingdom of Vale, a skilled Huntsman, a man who had been put on the team to personally handle _them _in situations like this, and… he did nothing. Was he a coward? Hoping she'd _spare _him out of some sense of "nobility" or "fairness?" Some idiotic gamble to get her to second guess herself?

Well she wasn't going to fall for this!

Blake's had shot to her dagger, feeling the polished bone of the handle beneath her fingers, the _pull _of the Darkness, Mother's dark resonance thick on her fingers, and…

And he did nothing.

He had smoked the very last millimeters of his cigarette. Just about enough to nearly burn his lip. She had her hand on her blade, her knees bent for the strike! But... he didn't even reach for his weapon. Didn't flinch. Just calmly watched and took it in as Blake feinted an attack. She loosened her posture, not willing to give up-

She snapped forward again, hand to blade, leaning forward for a… for a strike…

And he did nothing.

Something like panic rose in Blake's throat. Not because he'd outwitted her or because his unexpected strategy had thrown her off her game, but because _she couldn't draw her weapon._

Her hand was on the blade! She was ready to strike! She had an opening, she- Emerald would strike in her place! Pyrrha would have finished him off! They all would! Her sisters had taken to _fighting _their foes, and Blake could hear battle ringing out across the campus as her sisters fought for her Jaune and yet _she couldn't!_

She couldn't- she couldn't hesitate _now! _She'd- she could do this! Emerald and Pyrrha, _they_ were fighting! Once Qrow- once _this foe_ was dispatched, she could catch up with them, help them with their battles, get to Jaune, _carry out their mission! _She'd spent her whole life dreaming of the moment when she could finally _fight_ and now that she was here-

It was like she was being strangled.

Her hand clenched around the handle, feeling the magic _pulse _within it. Her _knife _wanted to kill, it would be- would be so _easy _to just _slice him, _but… but she just couldn't make herself draw her blade!

He was looking at her, his eyes, normally so piercing, were now just dull and sad, the kind that didn't cut through her defenses but left Blake feeling like there was a _wail _deep inside her that his eyes were calling to. Like he was calling it forth, great and terrible and _keening, _all her hopelessness, all her struggle, right now brought together with _why can't I kill you!_

She looked at Qrow, tears in her eyes. "It's not going to work!" she yelled.

He nodded. "I know."

"Shut up!" she yelled back. "I- I- Just shut up!"

And she remembered Yang, _this man's niece, _and hating her with all her heart and going to her for advice and enjoying dinner and flirting and _being there for Jaune and Pyrrha _and she _hated herself so much _but she couldn't do anything to stop!

"I'm going to kill you!" she screamed, but her arm was useless. Dead weight at her side, the knife in her belt having an almost inconceivable inertia that the _thought _of drawing it made Blake feel more exhausted than she ever had before.

And then she felt a tremble. First on her hand, limp on her blade, but then spreading through her entire body.

No. No, not- not now! Any time but _now!_

Her breath hitched in her throat, her vision swam and her legs felt she was caught on a familiar wave she couldn't hold back, suddenly shaky and uncertain and everything around her was changing and-

Gasping and retching, she tumbled to the ground. She- she knew this! A panic attack. _Just another panic attack!_ Now. Now, when she was in battle, when she had _no Jaune _a-and-

Her thoughts just collapsed into a series of guttural, throaty sobs. She was lost and she was scared and she wanted to go home and she _wanted Jaune. _Desperately clawing the ground around her, she tried to sit herself up, but she was lost in a mad terror. When she was a child, she would have these episodes, they all did, but Blake didn't _let _them rule her! But every attempt to take control of the situation just collapsed into a worse mess and panic.

"It's okay, it's okay," she heard Qrow say, and, looking up, Blake _hated _the compassion she could see on his face as he looked upon her, snarling and choking as she _thrashed _on the floor, "I know this is hard, kid, but let it out. Better out than in, and you can take that from someone with experience."

She wanted to cut him, to bite him, to do _anything _other than let him see her like this, but in the midst of her attack she could do anything but curl up and sob.

* * *

Summer Rose was a worthy foe.

But she was only human.

And Pyrrha was the incarnate _might _of the Grimm.

Summer flitted between the curtain of steel, her Semblance leaving a mist of rose petals where she once stood—instantly shredded by Pyrrha's blades, but it left a fine layer of the remains of flower petals to the point where Pyrrha abandoned her Armory. No telekinetic steel for this. She'd settle this like a warrior, one on one, blade against blade, honoring Summer Rose's skill.

Besides, they were in Beacon's Great Hall. A fitting place for a final duel.

Catching a javelin from the air, Pyrrha launched her opening gambit, pulling her arm back and _released, _the missile rocketing forward fast enough that the Huntress _couldn't _dodge quite fast enough—not enough to draw blood, but did leave a nice long rip down her white cloak, the red inner layer revealed in place of blood, and-

Pyrrha staggered a moment, giving Summer an opportunity to surge forward. She leapt to the air, her cloak billowing behind her, red and white, time slowing down as she seemed to hang in the air. With her white cloak behind her, she looked like an avenging angel, blades flashing, eyes lit with brilliant power, a flash to stun Pyrrha as she descended, rapier point streaking forward like a missile.

The fluttering cloak… it had triggered a memory, a memory of Summer's daughter, Ruby, in her own cloak. Ruby with Weiss, the both of them soaked through, dripping with pond muck and sharing the brightest smiles Pyrrha had ever seen, much less on her little sister's face. And she'd seen that look of happiness and _relief _on Jaune's face that made her day _even better. _A day that had already been made _wonderful _by Yang engineering that Pyrrha could spend time with Jaune… was it a stab of guilt she was feeling?

Dulled by her churning emotions and the brilliant illumination of Summer's attack, Pyrrha's sluggish attempt to counter was easily deflected by Summer's parrying dagger, knocking the blade from Pyrrha's grasp as her rapier lanced forward. Pyrrha's thoughts were brought back to reality as the stab of a rapier point caught her across the unarmored shoulder, pain _blossoming _alongside a spray of black, bloody Grimmstuff. _Second_ time a human had drawn blood on her and _this _time it was because she was being _stupid! _Pyrrha's rage exploded outwards, great enough that even the power of the Silver Eyes couldn't keep her might in check. Seeing her foe dash backwards filled Pyrrha with the _thrill _of battle and a deep seated _need _to destroy her Prince's foes!

With a roar, Pyrrha charged forward, snatching up a shortsword and leaping at Summer. Another flash of white light slowed her assault, but not enough to drive her back. Blade met blade, Summer's artful fencing against Pyrrha's brute force. The Huntress had no difficulty trapping Pyrrha's blade with her parrying dagger, but Pyrrha didn't care. She'd snatched up a shield and _slammed _it forward, forcing Summer to twist out of the way.

Pyrrha continued bullying her, hurling shattering blows like thunderbolts against her, smashing her way across the Hall without a care. This wasn't a fight, not really. It was swatting a particularly troublesome fly, and Pyrrha's blood grew hotter with every swing, every window shattered, every piece of debris produced by her sword or shield _pulverizing _what was in front of her.

A sudden dive caught her off guard, Summer's offhand weapon suddenly streaking past Pyrrha's defenses, catching her sword against the wall and flipping it right out of Pyrrha's hands! Summer was good, very good, maybe even the best in all of Remnant. But Pyrrha wasn't _of _Remnant, didn't fight by _their _rules, and wasn't about to give an inch when it came to _saving her Prince! _Summer was a good duelist, but she was trained by dueling humans, something Pyrrha _very much was not._

Instead of reaching for another one of her own weapons, Pyrrha made a move Summer would never have expected. Her hand shot forward to clutch Summer's weapon, grabbing the dagger by the blade and _ripping _it from Summer's hands. Black blood poured between her fingers as Pyrrha _crushed _the blade in her hand. She dropped the useless lump of twisted metal at her feet as Summer switched posture to one more befitting a single-sword style. And yet, it was pointless. A furious barrage of blows sallied forth, but they were deflected off Pyrrha's bony plates. If she was more in her right mind, Summer might have tried to go for her less armored parts, but she was _rattled. _It wouldn't matter anyways. The only thing any of these humans had wounded so far was her _pride._

Pyrrha just had to _end _things.

Her hand shot forward with a speed not even this warrior could match. Seizing her by her skull, Pyrrha _flung _the Silver Eyed Warrior into a pillar. Aura would keep the blow from killing her outright, but she wouldn't be in a shape to fight after her body had shattered the masonry. She was done, the fight was over, but...

Pyrrha wasn't about to stop.

Summer was too dazed by the blow to even try to get out of the way. Pyrrha grabbed her by the neck, _squeezing _it as she lifted the Silver Eyed Warrior into the air, looking right into those eyes with a look of pure, livid _hatred. _She tried to stand between Pyrrha and Jaune, tried to manipulate her, control her! Everything- everything had gone wrong, right when she started to hope and Pyrrha hated _everyone _for doing this to her.

With a cry of rage, Pyrrha flung her away, her body smashing into the ceiling, the support giving way as debris rained down on top of her. She was gasping for air, utterly helpless, utterly defeated, but all Pyrrha could see was red.

Pyrrha felt her breath hot in her nostrils. The scent of _blood _was thick in the air, the fury and rage of war itself beating within her as she stalked forward, seeing her opponent pinned to the floor, aura gone, but not finished, not yet. Pyrrha was the Eagle, and she did not leave a battle _unfinished. _All foes must be destroyed. All opponents must be eliminated. For Jaune. For Mother. The Darkness _roared _inside her as Pyrrha stepped, heavily, across the room, seeing her _prey _struggle in vain as she approached, sword in hand, its blade unwheted.

She would fix that. She knew what to do.

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**

**I feel for Blake here. First, because she's usually my self-insert, but really, she was doomed here from the get-go; you might have noticed that she really hasn't succeeded at _anything_ in this story. She failed to covertly influence her parents. She failed to intimidate Yang. She failed, disastrously, in her attempt to seduce Jaune.**** For the most self-confident of the sisters, she's got a terrible track record. But I think she's also someone who fails because... she's the one with the best inkling that what they want is _wrong. _She's someone whose life goal has been to become a master villain, but at the end of the day, she can't bring herself to do something as evil as kill Qrow. There's a good person in there, which constantly puts her at odds in her goal to do evil.  
**

**Side note, when I wrote this chapter, I had just discovered the musical _Six, _and I still score Summer's fight here to the chorus of "Ex-Wives." For Pyrrha, in terms of musicals, I think "Madame Guillotine" from _The Scarlet Pimpernel _fits her theme. She's less an individual and more like a mob, a force of nature, something that sweeps forward, destruction beyond reasoning.  
**

**But heads up on the next chapter: we're gonna have some canon compliance.**


	33. To Guide

**CW: Extreme Violence, Traumatic Situations, Parental Anguish, Gore**

This was it.

There was no strength left in her. Summer struggled still, pushing feebly against the debris her body was pinned under, hoping to summon some hidden reserves in her panic or desperation to buy her even a few precious seconds before the end. But even if she could… she was caught tight, shattered pieces of the building pinning her down, a piece of twisted steel fixing her leg in place. It was over. This was it.

Pyrrha stood across from her. So far, she'd been content to simply take her foes out of the battle, to focus on getting through rather than in killing, but Pyrrha's face was a mask of total bloody-minded focus as she strode across the room, blade in hand. Like some primal goddess of vengeance and destruction, a war deity that bore all of mankind's fears of the madness that seized a warrior lost in bloodlust, she had no clear emotion on her face, but in it, Summer could see her death.

Not many options left here.

She ceased fighting. Her struggle was over. Her fight was lost. She'd face death with dignity, knowing that, as a Silver Eyed Warrior, she had been born an enemy of the most powerful woman to ever live. She had been readying herself for this day her whole life, and the fifteen years of peace were the anomaly, not the life she was-

"Huntsmen of Remnant!"

Wait, _Glynda?_

Her voice, focused, commanding, not a hint of fear in it, boomed inside Summer's head. An illusion, a concussion haze, a-

"Assist Mrs. Rose!"

An _explosion _of gunfire accompanied the battle cry as Summer realized she wasn't going to die just yet. Pyrrha swung a heavy greatshield to block the stream of bullets, but her sword _flashed _as it met a rabbit-earned Faunus girl's—Yang's friend Velvet, Summer realized—own blade.

But in the crash of blades, Summer realized that _this _team was only the vanguard. More raced forward, most she didn't recognize, students from the Academies, bringing forth their unique skills, Semblances, and weaponry against Pyrrha's telekinetic arsenal. Guns and rockets and all manner of mechashifted weaponry rang out as Pyrrha dueled dozens of students at once, striking like a swarm of gnats that couldn't be so easily targeted. Where one was pushed back, a burst of fire from another forced Pyrrha off the offensive, and a third darted forward to exploit the opening. Humans and Faunus, from every Academy and every Kingdom, all united in their battle. She saw an Atlesian Faunus on skates pull back a Valean swordsman before Pyrrha could smash him with a mace, and a Vacuan sniper laid down cover fire as a Mistralian fist fighter did her best to close the gap and try to put the heat on Pyrrha. She saw Team SSSN, Yang's friends, fighting as skillfully as she would hope from Haven's best alongside CFVY, the eight of them coordinating with the other Teams as well as Glynda could ever ask of them.

She was there, too, in the thick of it, crop extended, face lined with that level of precise, lethal concentration Summer had seen on her face long ago, before her teaching days, when Summer watched her on the screen back in her tournament days. With a _swish, _she raised stone and steel and debris to build up her own telekinetic storm to lock up as many of Pyrrha's blades as she could. Almost- almost enough to free her—Summer felt the weight lessen, her movement increase—but her leg remained caught. She knew their priority was on stopping Pyrrha rather than freeing her, b-but just a little _more..._

"_INTO BATTLE!"_

She heard Peter's booming laugh explode as he charged with his axe out, hurling himself forward. With Glynda tying up Pyrrha's cloud of weaponry, Peter could throw himself through the whirling steel to trade blows directly with Salem's General. Axe met sword in a tremendous clash, as Bart fired relentlessly, leading a team of student gunners to unleash as much firepower as they could against her in a broadside.

But it didn't bring Summer much hope to see it.

They didn't stand a chance.

Without the pressure of Summer's Silver Eyes, nothing was keeping Pyrrha's own powers in check. The pugilist was flung backwards with only a glance, Peter's incredible strength was nothing against hers, and Pyrrha could duel a _hundred _foes at once if she needed to. The attack was fought off nearly as soon as it had begun, with Pyrrha once more on the offensive, her weaponry everywhere, with jets of black flame suddenly bursting forth from the floor. Glynda did all she could to shield the students, but it was a rout. Black clouds of poison and fire swirled through the room as Pyrrha's power only seemed to _grow _as more joined the battle, the ground _cracking _beneath her as her rage grew more and more terrible, the students powerless against a foe so far beyond them.

But Summer wasn't watching the fight. Her eyes darted all about, watching students be flung about like rag dolls, one with a duplication Semblance trying to distract her away from his team, but finding that five javelins were as easy to fling as one for Pyrrha's telekinetic assault. One of Yang's friends desperately tried to dodge and deflect her blades with his staff, but it was doomed to failure. Fortunately, Pyrrha wasn't spending any more effort than just swatting them away, letting them retreat and break away rather than smashing down through their aura. But that wasn't what Summer was looking for, selfish as it was. Eyes darted from student to student, from bloodied Valeans to crumpled Mistralians, desperately looking for two girls she hadn't seen yet and _prayed _she wouldn't, even if it was truly hopeless.

An Atlesian girl, a redhead, one that Summer knew was a favorite for the tournament, had managed to actually fight past Pyrrha's renewed assault and fire a massive _blast _of energy, only for Pyrrha to lazily deflect it into the ceiling. A shower of dust and rubble came down, though it only made Pyrrha vanish from sight for a second before she cast the debris from her side and turned her attention to her opponent. The girl suddenly found her wire-guided swords no longer followed her commands as she struggled in vain to fight a walking _hurricane _of steel, and-

No.

No, no, no no nononononono_noooooo!_

Immediately, Summer set to trying to tear herself free from the debris. She couldn't sit here, she couldn't just watch as she saw her own _daughter _surged forward, appearing from the dust, her blonde hair streaming behind her. But rather than throw a punch, she interposed herself between Pyrrha and the Atlesian, who took the opportunity to retreat, helping an injured girl in blue back to her feet. Yang looked as gallant and heroic as Summer had ever dreamed she might see her one day, a true Huntress, her father's daughter, and yet, it filled her with a terror that ripped Summer apart!

"Pyrrha!" Yang yelled, fearlessly, "You have to _stop_ this!"

"Get out of my WAY!" Pyrrha thundered, her fury making Yang's knees _buckle _as she struggled to stay upright against the furious power of Grimm rage.

_Fall, _Summer pleaded to the gods, _just let her fall down and let Pyrrha move on, take me, kill me, do whatever you want to my soul, just DON'T TAKE MY DAUGHTER!_

But the gods heard no prayers.

"This isn't what Jaune would want!" Yang said, taking all her strength to keep advancing on the war engine. "And you know it, Pyrrha! I _know _you're scared, and we'll make those bastards _pay _if they even t-think about hurting him! But you can't keep _doing this!"_

"I can't trust you!" Pyrrha screamed, "I can't trust _anyone! _You- you're not family! You weren't _there! _A-all I have is Jaune, a-and if they _take him from me, _I'll- I'll- I'll-"

"Pyrrha, it's okay!" Yang wheezed, as Summer furiously clawed at the twisted steel of the girder pinning her until her fingers _bled, _"He'll be okay, you just have to-"

But Pyrrha was done with talking. Her sword gleaming in her hand she swung with an inhuman force as Yang blocked with-

No. Oh no.

The blade _dug_ deep into Yang's arm, skin and muscle and _bone_ horribly giving way to bloodied steel.

No, oh no no no, why didn't she dodge, _where was her aura? _She just- Horror rose in Summer's guts as she saw the skin rupture, white shards of _bone _fragmenting, the dark red spray of her little girl's life arcing into the air, watching her daughter, her precious daughter, stunned, toppling to her knees and all Summer could do was _watch._

Summer didn't realize she was screaming. Didn't feel pain or anything as she tried to tear her own leg off, pull it right from its socket, the sight of her daughter's crimson blood, that same color as all her skinned knees and scratched fingers, that Summer had seen so many times, kissed all better, covered with bandaids, worried and fretted and gave all her life-

But it wasn't the only scream.

It was a noise made in light, echoed with a sound, lightning and thunder all in one moment with a familiar _flash_ of white. Summer realized immediately what was happening. After all, she'd seen it from the other side of things when she was a younger woman.

Ruby's powers had awakened.

But it wasn't like Summer's own awakening. She saw Ruby's eyes _blazing _with silver power as she streaked through the dust, the force strong enough to make Pyrrha step back, but, shockingly, Ruby still stayed on her feet. She didn't black out. Fury and horror compelled her to consciousness, refusing to collapse with her _sister's _life on the line. No, the power of her eyes alone weren't enough to stop Pyrrha. But it was enough to make her _reel, _to open up her defenses, and with a wave of red petals and white light, Ruby shot forward, and suddenly, a great gout of black blood paired with the red of the roses.

Ruby hacked and hacked and hacked, her scythe tearing through Pyrrha's throat and arms and even her bony plates, her blade and her eyes flashing in equal measures as she vented their ancient, ancestral _fury_ upon the Grimm.

When Summer had activated her powers, she'd been in a coma for over a week. So had her aunt, who'd first taught her the truth of the Silver Eyed Warriors, and according to Ozpin, the _force _that came with first unlocking its incredible might invariably took a massive toll on the body. Learning to use its powers while still being able to stay up on two legs took _training, _but Ruby, driven by the horror and rage that Summer felt in her own breast, had force enough to power through, her scythe flashing as she battered Pyrrha with as all the power her little body could put out. Spray after _spray _of black blood splattered through the air, a blow deep and savage enough to kill anything _human._

But Summer could already see…

It _still _wasn't enough.

Suddenly, Pyrrha's fist shot forward with a wave of black flame and _flung _Ruby backwards with a punch solid enough to put her in the air. Her small, overtaxed frame crumpled to the floor as she hit the ground. The pressure of Pyrrha's force, her raw, unmatched _hatred _vented upon them crushed Summer's throat, made her struggle to even breathe, but she couldn't let herself be stopped! Couldn't- couldn't pause now! She struggled, attempting to pull free, to summon _whatever _power was still in her to make her _useless _limbs obey and carry her to her little girl, _to save her from this monster!_

She would tear her own gods-damned _leg _off to free herself from the rubble, to do whatever it took to _stop this! _With a silent _shriek _she finally pulled herself free, her leg torn up viciously, likely dislocated from her hip by the debris, useless for walking, but hand after hand shot forward as she clawed the floor in front of her, her fingers digging in, slipping on her own blood, to _pull _her to her daughter, to _try _and save her child. But- but...

Every agonizing inch told her it wasn't enough. And Summer realized what was about to happen.

She was going to watch her daughters die before her.

And she couldn't even _scream._

"PYRRHA!" a voice exploded. Summer's heart leapt in her chest, desperate that it might be _something _to hope for, some promise of rescue, but no. It was Yang. Yang, broken and bloodied and beaten, struggling to stay upright as she staggered forward, clutching at the bloody ruin of her arm. Pyrrha's eyes swiveled to her, her wrath making Summer struggle to breathe as she desperately clawed her way forward just to- just to- just to _do something!_

Yang struggled as well, but she was able to _force _words out of her throat. "You have… you have to _stop, _Pyrrha."

* * *

She hurt.

Brothers above, she _hurt!_

It was a pain unlike anything Yang had ever felt before. Her arm, limp and powerless, _screamed _at her, her nerves shredded like the muscle and bone now exposed to her eyes. She clutched at her wound, in some vague, hopeless attempt to staunch the bleeding, but it honestly might be more just to make sure she couldn't _see _it. Or to keep it from falling off. Weirdly, she seemed very confused, of all things, that the black flames along Pyrrha's sword didn't cauterize her arm in any way, just left it _feeling _like it was still burning. Poison? She couldn't tell, and thoughts were not coming to her. Her mind wasn't working so good—she had a headache unlike any she'd ever had before, a nail in her skull, _pulsing _with every move, her vision was swimming and she could see the darkness closing it. And yet…

Yang stood up. On shaky, uncertain legs that had no sensation, no balance, but worked _well enough _for her to stand up.

It was kind of funny, in a way that was funny to her oxygen-starved brain, that it wasn't rage or anger or grief or just the fear that she was about to lose her mother and her sister that was driving her. It really ought to, but with her blood pressure mostly going out that giant gash in her arm, she was shocked she was thinking things through _at all._

Determination. That was all it was, just pure, gritted teeth determination that she wasn't going to die before she said her piece. That stubborn cussedness that she apparently inherited from her mom. Got her called all sorts of names at school. More Parent-Teacher Conferences than she could count about being a "delinquent" or a "problem student." Boys calling her a bitch behind her back because they were too scared to say it to her face. Let 'em. Yang was the kind of woman who'd stagger up into her grave, fighting the whole way. Like now. Unbreakable Yang, that was her nickname. Tournament announcers called her that, and the students of Beacon chanted it when she fought Jaune. She sure as shit didn't feel unbreakable now, but _hell,_ she wasn't _not _gonna do this. The _hell _she'd just lay down and die! Even if every step was _agony,_ she had- she had _something to say, _gods damn it!

She was pretty sure she yelled Pyrrha's name, her ears were ringing too much to tell if she'd actually made noise, but she'd gotten her attention. Eyes swiveled, and holy hell, did she look like a mess. But her eyes were as striking as ever. Twin emeralds, empowered with an unnatural illumination. Yang had noticed them from the beginning, when she'd first seen the claimed with her own eyes in Goodwitch's class. She saw how those eyes tracked the room, looking for threats in all of their faces. But that was just fear. Fear cause she- she cared for her family.

And now she saw them filled with a _grief _so big it could drown her rage. Guilt plain on her face when she saw Yang's ruin of an arm. This wasn't a monster. This was a girl who knew she was in over her head and lashing out in terror, and everything she broke just… made it harder 'n harder to back down. Yang had sure been there before. Knew how hard it was.

"Pyrrha," she rasped, her throat _burning _with every syllable as her legs _screamed _at her to stop, to rest, to just succumb to defeat. "This isn't… you."

Her arm hung uselessly at her side. She knew Pyrrha's eyes were locked onto it, but she wasn't going to give her an out like this. "You gotta stop," she said, as forceful as she could manage, "Cause… cause you haven' done anything you can't be… forgiven for. Yet. You just gotta... stop now and we'll," she stepped forward, stumbled more like, and Pyrrha almost stepped back in fear, but Yang wasn't letting her do that. "It's alright… just stop now, and we'll… we'll go save Jaune. It'll be fine… you'll see..."

Every word was punctuated with a heavy, shuffling footstep. Oh, it hurt worse than Yang knew pain could hurt. She was only half aware of what she was saying, between the pain and the fuzziness and the dark, but she'd crossed the room. Eye to eye with Pyrrha. She didn't have to walk anymore. Which was good. She was losing… whole lot of blood. Vaguely aware that Ren and Nora were back there, with Ruby. That was good, too. They'd… get her help. Good...

Practically falling forward, Yang wrapped her good arm around Pyrrha, half hugging, half leaning on her, the war machine melting into a terrified, desperate, and grief-stricken girl.

"It's alright," Yang whispered as she embraced her, "It's going to be alright. I promise."

But Pyrrha had no words. She sobbed, sobbed in pure, hopeless despair, and it _burned _her, from the inside out, how hopeless everything was. But Yang wasn' gonna let go, wasn' gonna let this end any other way. She'd made a gamble on these kids at the party, and it'd paid off. They weren't monsters. _They weren't monsters. _There was a girl in her… in her arms, crying her eyes out because she was scared out of her mind. And Yang was… here for her…

They were leaning on each other now, neither of them having the ability to remain standing on their own power. Yang vaguely knew that it was getting dark and that wasn't good, but she'd stopped her. Ruby and mom were safe. Everybody was safe now... and she just had to take a hit for it… just like her Semblance always did… mom 'n dad would be so proud...

Heh, of all the ways...

* * *

She sat in the room. Scared. So scared, so very, very scared.

She heard the _bangs _and _crashes _and bit her lip. Her eyes watered. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn't help. Every breath, she cried a bit more, tears making her face wet, sniffles making it hard to breathe. She pulled the blankets over her head as she tried to shut out everything that was happening. _She just wanted to go home. _But she couldn't. Everyone was getting hurt and she couldn't do anything and she _hated it!_

In 15 years, Weiss only had pain in her life.

No, that wasn't true.

There was also Jaune.

Jaune had been there for her from the beginning. He was the voice telling her to be brave in the darkness. The one who held her in her fears. The one who told her she was _not _a monster, that she was better than she believed herself to be, that she wasn't broken, that she would get through this.

And he was about to die. Because he wanted to die. Because he-

She didn't let herself think that. How had- had they not got it? She always thought Jaune would always be there for them. Always. That he was their brother, and he was always so strong for them, so they never had to think if _he _was falling apart.

But _he was._

Weiss felt another sob shake her entire body. But there was nothing she could do. Nobody could do anything. Jaune… she couldn't help Jaune and she couldn't help Ruby and she couldn't help anyone, and all she could do was cry! Because- because she couldn't do _anything!_

No. No, she… she _wouldn't. _She wouldn't let it be like this.

Magic. She had magic. And that was more… more than anyone got. Even Mother didn't really get it. A glance up, where Weiss was scared to look, and then a hesitant whisper. "I…" she timidly asked the corner of the ceiling, "I need your help… please..."

A flash of white made her look away in fear. A spark within made her realize what to do. What she _could _do. She just had to be brave. Weiss- Weiss thought of Ruby. Thought of frog hunting with her in the forest and how _happy _she was. That… that was part of her. Weiss felt it inside her, felt it in her _core, _even though _she didn't want to, _she made herself remember being happy. Focused on it. Even as scary as it was, she could, she _knew _something about this.

Her head hurt. But she couldn't stop. Another thought. Jaune, after her nightmare. He wasn't… wasn't himself. He was afraid. Needed her. She was strong. For him. Tied the memory down, b-bound her thought with the other.

Another… another thought! Holding the night light! Feeling fear and grief and- and anger! She was _angry _at Blake for hurting Jaune, but she- she _got _it. She knew that she hurt people sometimes when _she _wanted attention and it hurt her that she did that! She tied it down with the others, even as she got scared!

She wanted to scream. To puke. But she- she had to keep going. Every thought, everything she tied down, she- she could _think. _More and bigger thoughts and just… just _think _for once!

Her mind was a mess of Darkness, thoughts were hard with all the fear and pain and sadness, but she had power over Darkness, even if it was scary. Blake had beat the Darkness. _Weiss could too! _She thought about Emerald being nice to her and bringing her coloring books! She thought about Professor Port and his stories! She thought about Pyrrha being a butt about her making Grimm frogs! She thought about Professor Callows hitting her with a stick and running up the roof and eating Mister Rainert's shoes! Ms. Fall—telling her it was okay to hide sometimes! That time she said she _didn't want to be Nice Weiss!_ And with every thought she tied down… she held the surging Darkness back and _thought._

Magic was her domain. It ran rampant in her mind, but she wouldn't let it push her around. Cognition bloomed within her, what had been _stunted _for over a decade was coming together, and she was gaining _dominion _of her mind, even if it _hurt,_ and she could- could _push _it outwards! She! Was! The! _Raven!_

She could cast her gaze millennia into the past and see a girl in a tower. Cast it endless miles away to see a Queen on her dark throne. Weiss was at Beacon and the Grimmlands and on the surface of the broken Moon. She could feel the _thrum _of life across the school, three brilliant points, bundles of hope and love and a pain so deep it felt like it might _break her, _but Weiss could feel a fourth, in the distance, in Vale. Her brother. Jaune. Grieving and wounded and hurt, but still alive. He wasn't broken, just as he had told her that _she was not broken, _and he could still be saved, if she just had the _power _she needed!

All the things she'd seen but not looked at, all the dark corners she had rejected, content to live in the blissful ignorance of a child now came rushing down upon her. Magic, _true _magic, crackled in her veins as more than a _decade's _knowledge of the arcane and esoteric flooded her mind. Memories of every time she'd averted her eyes, every time Mother or her tutors or her siblings, her _beloved _siblings tried to teach her… it was upon her now.

Weiss, the Raven, called all the powers of hell to her side as she focused her mind to a singular task. This… wasn't stable, to say the least. Weiss understood her own nature better than anyone, better even than Mother, and she knew that this couldn't hold. Not forever. Not even for long. Her psyche was fragmented on a primal level, and simply layering level after level of cognition on top of it… it wasn't sustainable, and she was liable to utterly _shatter _herself, to break down into the formless, thoughtless _chaos _of pure Darkness, but it was a risk she was willing to take. It wasn't even the hardest task she had before her right now.

She had to look back to her. She had to ask for her help once more.

With a powerful sense of dread, she looked back up to see where the flash of white had been, to see the woman she had dubbed "The Pretty Lady," her constant spectral follower, what Weiss's mind now knew was called a "familiar." She was pale white all over, like Weiss was, but translucent. Her hands pursed together, her face lined with the concern that made Weiss _hurt. _Only her eyes had color, a pale and piercing blue. She was a spirit bound in her service. Something she'd _pulled _from the Pool of Darkness in her terror. Something—_someone—_she'd looked away from, ignored, even as it was always present in her life. A source of power, but one so tinged with loss and pain, her shattered mind _cringed _away from it. No longer. Weiss… Weiss looked upon the face that had filled her dreams with so many thoughts of loss and loneliness, but could now feel the deep wellspring of love and comfort within her.

"I... cannot lose him," she whispered to her spirit, and then reached her hand out to the apparition. It did not speak, but instead, reached her hand out as well. Their fingers met, a pain in Weiss's soul _seared _her, but… but she felt something within, something like she felt when Jaune would hold her in her bed and tell her she had nothing to fear. When he would tell her she _wasn't _broken. She was… she was not alone. She would have her help in what she was about to do. It would make all the difference.

Blinking back the tears of loss and the realization of the entire _lifetime _that had been stolen from her, Weiss accepted the blessing of her guardian angel. It would give her a touchstone, a piece of mental strength, of her psychological _wholeness _to tie Weiss together. Not long, not long at all, but long enough, as she unleashed magic she ought not know. The _truth _of magic, the divination of the possible and the probable, the act of Will itself. The magic that could _slice _into reality, make an act of pure division upon the universe and step from one room into another, on the other side of a forest, the room she needed to be in, now.

It was time to put aside childish things.

It was time to save her brother.

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**

**If you haven't noticed yet, this fic owes a debt to Toby Fox's Undertale. Put "His Theme" on once Yang starts thinking about Determination. But every fight was won by refusing to be an enemy, refusing to accept that they had to be, and exhausting their opponent's will to fight. But at the same time, this kind of pacifism isn't an easy or a safe route, as exemplified by Yang. The six main characters are all extraordinary individuals, and Yang is no less so for lacking the supernatural powers of the other five. Her refusal to accept things as they appeared to be meant she was the only person to look at them as kids and she was the first to realize that they were _abused _kids on top of that. There's a power in that kind of radical empathy. And a power that comes in sacrifice.**

**But all the fighting and emotional breakdowns were all orbiting the big question: what's happening with Jaune, in the hands of his enemies? Well, Weiss is going to find out firsthand, in the next chapter. I'm looking forward to it!**


	34. Amen

**CW: Suicidal Ideation, Trauma**

_Earlier._

He really wished he had someone else with him.

Not his sisters, no, not even Ms. Fall. If they were here he… he couldn't go through with this. But if even Mr. Branwen was here, he'd feel a little better. Better him than these faceless, anonymous Atlesian soldiers, accompanying him on the Bullhead and escorting him to the meeting place.

It was, quite literally, an army. Hundreds of soldiers and Huntsmen, from Atlas and Menagerie, were everywhere he looked. He had his escort, a group of Atlesian Specialists he hadn't seen before, but everywhere he went, he saw dozens and dozens of others, weapons ready, prepared for anything that might go wrong. Pointedly not looking him in the eye, keeping watch for... for something else, he supposed.

Jaune supposed it wouldn't do if he received _another _assassination attempt as he delivered himself into the hands of his enemies.

_Enemies._

A voice inside him, dark and sinister, echoed the sound, and for the first time, Jaune felt the real _meaning _of the word.

The world of Remnant was, Jaune knew, his enemy. Every Kingdom, every living person, human and Faunus, was against them. Mother had told him, not as a lesson, not as indoctrination, but a simple fact—even those who served him, even those who adored him, unless they were Grimm, _they were his enemy. _Cinder, Tyrian, Arthur, Hazel… they were not _like _him. They were not on his side. And the rest of the world... they _hated _him.

But he never thought of himself as a man with enemies. People hated him because he was distant and inexplicable, a face to put on the monsters that stalked the wild and endangered everyone. But if they had the chance, if he could make the first step to reach out, if they could _get to know him… _they would try to tear his throat out with a knife.

That was how much the world hated him.

And a feeling he'd felt for over a decade suddenly became very clear. Jaune now knew what that voice was, what it meant, what it had been telling him _ever since he was thrown into the Pool._

_You are a monster._

_You deserve to die._

It was the voice of the entire world. And all he could choose… all he could stand for was to either _fight _that world… or face it. That was why he was here.

He hoped his sisters would forgive him, one day. That they would understand why he did it.

But he'd have to face it himself, first.

The path seemed to go on forever, but Jaune took some comfort in that—he knew where it led, and every second he had traveling to the room was another second Jaune had. But it made him uncomfortable to think just how _deep _he was going into the facility. More and more layers of security, each one making him wonder what they were expecting. They were measures to keep someone _out, _so it had no bearing on _him, _but were they... did they think there would be a rescue coming? From _who?_

They entered an elevator—just how deep did this facility _go?—_and as the doors closed, Jaune caught sight of the face reflected in their silvery surface. His face—the face of a young Valean, the sort of face that wouldn't look out of place beside Yang, if it wasn't for two deviations from the norm. First, the horrid black-and-red scar across his neck, the mingling of bloody, scabrous human flesh and vile black Grimmstuff, and second, his eyes, as bright and red as fire itself.

A monster's eyes.

When he was a child, he sometimes felt guilty about his eyes. That it was his _only _mark that he was like his sisters—while Blake and Weiss and Emerald and especially Pyrrha had to bear obvious marks of the Grimm, Jaune was "lucky." He could just close his eyes and pretend to all the world that he _wasn't _like them and he'd just be… human.

But Jaune lived in a world where humanity was a rarity. Mother and his sisters made up his society, and in that light, Jaune saw his eyes as his one _proof _that he was connected to them. And that dark, selfish part of him loved his eyes, because they were proof that he _was _their brother, that they were his sisters. But Jaune always knew that they weren't _really _a family. That they had _other _families, back in Remnant, _real _families, and they had merely been brought together by circumstance rather than birth.

Everything he felt for his sisters, everything they felt for him… it was the cruel and greedy part of him that clung to their stolen affection. What _belonged _to their actual families… and what could he expect, when they had no one else in their lives, that they would even _fall for him? _Just because they had been robbed of the world they should have been raised in, because he was the only option. And he _welcomed _it, like the craven _thing_ he was.

_You deserve this, _the dark, oily voice inside him hissed, _you have brought pain and misery to all the world by existing. You wanted Blake to be your sister. Now you've seen the anguish on her mother's face, the anguish of a woman who lost her daughter. The girls you cling to, each and every one of them was taken from their real family. And you only thought of yourself._

The words cut deep, and Jaune had no defense against them. All he could do was bear it, endure the pain, make _something _of his wretched life useful and use his experience enduring suffering for others' sake. Face his crimes with dignity. Like a man.

Just like when Mother cast him into The Hole. But that… that always made things better for everyone, when he suffered. His pain had brought his sisters food and clothes and beds. This would-

The elevator stopped, a faint tremor passing through Jaune's body as his descent ceased. With a _ding, _the doors slid open, splitting the semblance of his face in two as the hallway opened before him. Not a long one. The end of the line.

His escort had led him to a door that had two Specialists on guard. Jaune didn't know where he was, but he knew what was behind that door, in _all _its implications.

The guards barked words into their communicators. Jaune could hear them, clearly, but… just didn't care what they were saying. It didn't matter. They were preparing counter maneuvers and emergency procedures for what to do if he attacked or went wild or simply wouldn't _die quickly. _A monster had to be felled, not just sealed away. The poison had to be _removed _from the world. So they had to be thorough.

They wouldn't need it.

The doors opened. The guards stepped aside. Nobody was going to force him to take these next steps. No psychopomp to tell him it was time. It was all on him. So, with _barely _enough determination to manage it, Jaune stepped forward, each leg feeling almost infinitely massive, the distance seeming endless, and yet, before he realized it, before he had the chance to _appreciate _the time he had… the threshold was crossed. The doors closed behind him. He was there. At his destiny.

His chest felt tight as he looked around. Mother had taught him about looking _dignified _in moments of weakness, in maintaining the facade of composure. And those lessons held—even though his eyes _wanted _to dart from corner to corner, from face to face, Jaune carefully looked about him, looking at the faces of his executioners.

Jacques Schnee was the first face he saw. Jaune had never met the man before, but he knew about him. Blake had prepared him for all the parents, and he knew to expect a cold, hard-bitten man, a man made bitter by what Mother had done to him. The _bitterness _was clear in the dossier, the bitterness of a man who lost wife and daughter and nearly lost his company, collapsing into a pit of alcohol and despair, until sheer _will, _a will for revenge, a will to _refuse _Mother another victory over his family, brought him back out, driving the SDC to new corporate heights. It had all been right there, on the page.

But the dossier did not prepare Jaune for the _grief _he could see behind Jacques's cold eyes. There was so much more emotion there, hidden so deep that Jaune wondered if anyone else had ever seen it before him, but behind the bitterness and the cold blazed a fire of grief and loss and fury, all for _Weiss, _and Jaune's composure couldn't take it. He had to look away.

His daughter, Winter, was next to him. The similarities to Weiss were too great. Jaune had to look away.

And then… the Belladonnas. Ghira. Quiet, contemplative, and massive. A great presence looming over Jaune. His arms were folded over his burly chest as he looked down, a look that made Jaune feel smaller than he ever thought he could. He remembered shaking Ghira's hand, feeling his powerful strength and the _rumble _of his voice as Jaune felt he had found someone he could trust. Someone he could make peace with and present to Mother as _proof _that Remnant was open to their good faith.

And Kali. The woman who… had torn his throat open. The scar _ached _to see her. His heart ached, too. She looked so much like Blake, only of a more natural shade and her face, lined with the hard years of grief and loss. She'd taken his throat out with a knife, but all Jaune could think of as he looked at her was that clear pain on her face. It spoke to him of her years of loss and sorrow, the unimaginable pain of losing her child. Blake was _precious _to him, they all were, but this was her _mother._ Imagining if Blake had been stolen from him… Jaune couldn't blame her. Not for trying to kill him. Not even if she had succeeded.

When the knife had opened his throat up, blood and air mingling before him, Jaune had hardly noted the pain, the sudden presence of death. He took some comfort in that. He was _supposed _to die then, supposed to bleed out and drift off to wherever he was bound to go next. Peaceful. Quiet. A final release from this world. An end to his pain. He wasn't supposed to survive, every moment since he first woke up just reminded him of that. But now... everything would go back how it was supposed to be.

There was a seat prepared for him. Jaune only had to walk a few more steps and he could _finally _stop standing. Stop relying on his jellied legs to support him. Stop putting every ounce of willpower into not just shaking in fright. But looking at the families, seeing _how much they'd suffered, _seeing the agony carved into them that could only be eased if he just finally _died… _Jaune realized that the three steps to his seat might as well be three thousand. He didn't have the energy. Didn't have the strength. Couldn't keep it together, not any longer.

He fell to his knees. Collapsed, really, as his face toppled forward and his whole body prostrated itself, not to beg for mercy or forgiveness, but because he couldn't hold his own grief back any longer. Couldn't keep the words from _tearing _forth, like blood from his opened throat.

"I- _I'm sorry!" _he sobbed in pure desperation. Tears ran down his face with abandon as all pretensions of collection or control deserted him. The parents recoiled, half in shock, half in the certainty that this was some trick, but Jaune, already a dead man, just _bawled _without shame, the weight of their eyes on him too much to bear.

"I _tried _to protect them, I'm so sorry, I tried!" he wailed out his years of desperation, "I tried so hard, but I _couldn't, _oh gods, I couldn't- couldn't stop it!"

Once he began, he couldn't stop, and a flood of babble spilled out of his mouth, poured out upon the floor like vomit. He sobbed and wailed, he grieved, he barely made _sense, _but Jaune, one foot already in the grave, suddenly realized how _desperate _he was to just _try _and make things right. A lifetime of repentance and regret burst loose, the guilt a storm he couldn't bear within him in silence any longer. Before he departed this world _he had to let them know, _let them know he… he _tried. _He tried, he failed, he was so, so sorry! _He would never stop being sorry!_

"M-Mother, she- she- I tried, please, I tried! B-but she- she-" his words collapsed into more incoherent sobs. He knew he was a mess, that any attempts at facing his end with dignity was lost, but he was already a dead man; let it all spill out right now! "I couldn't- couldn't stop it!"

Kali looked at him with a dazed expression, but Jaune couldn't hold her gaze, his eyes darting down as she heard her voice. "Oh gods..." she murmured, tears beginning to form in her eyes, "Oh gods, no… no, no..."

Every syllable a new pain. He couldn't look up anymore, his forehead hitting the floor with a dull _thunk, _his eyes drinking in the pattern of the wood grain. The last sight he'd ever see, tensing for the _end._

"I think..." Ghira's voice was slow, but the _horror _within it was deep enough to echo, "I think we've made a tragic mistake..."

_Don't. Don't make it last. Do it, do it now! JUST END IT!_

Jaune gasped as he felt the sudden contact, but it… it wasn't a blade or a bullet, it wasn't anything that would let this _end._

He felt arms around him, the rough fabric of a suit jacket, his eyes unable to place what was happening as his vision swam: his body was propped up. Jacques Schnee had pulled him into a sudden hug. Jaune hadn't been expecting it, but at the sudden sensation of human contact, his strength gave way. He'd been broken down as low as he could ever imagine himself to be, but this sudden act of mercy and compassion revealed how much further Jaune could fall in his desperation.

"My boy," he whispered, his voice choked, "My _dear _boy..."

Something inside Jaune wanted to scream, wanted to push him away, to _demand _that they finish the job that they _end his suffering! _He could understand their hatred, could even accept his death at their hands, he had known it was coming, he'd come to terms with it, he _wanted _to _die,_ but Jaune couldn't bear their sympathy and regret. He was caught in a great whirlpool of misery and suffering, all about him was the agony of grieving parents, remorseful assassins, guilt and agony and pain and pain and _pain._

Kali had knelt beside him. Her arms were around him and Jaune wished she could just finish it all, tear his throat out, _let him die!_

But instead, she just held him, tears streaming down her face as she whispered, "It's alright… It's alright… I am so, so _sorry..."_

He could endure their hatred; he could not endure their regret. Their pain. He came to them so they could _finish his wretched existence! _But now, he had only caused more pain. Brought more suffering into the world. But now… But now…

Clasping him to her breast, Kali held him tight. Jaune's throat, raw from his tears and still choked from his wound, gurgled as she stroked his back. It was… _calming, _in a way Jaune couldn't place. After fifteen years without even a hint of maternal compassion, Kali Belladonna, the woman who had, only days before, _tried to kill him, _could puncture through even Jaune's total breakdown as she held him. Jacques Schnee rested his hand on Jaune's shoulder, a feeling of strength and reassurance, as, for the first time since he'd been mastering the tricycle, Jaune could turn to parents for help.

The torrents unleashed, Jaune couldn't do more than shudder and sob as they held him.

There was no pain like grace, nothing worse in this world than this reprieve, but Jaune had been a facade of a man for so long, holding himself together for his sisters' sake, denying this reality just in the hopes that if he could hold it together, if he could get past _this _challenge or _this _test, that it'd all stay stable and hold together. He told himself that time and time and time again, but now, he could admit the truth.

He could finally just break.

His whole body shook as tears ran freely down his face, staining his cheeks. He could feel he wasn't alone, in this, the tears splashing from Kali's eyes onto his shoulder. And Jacques, he could hear, wept to, as did Ghira and Winter. They were his enemies, had tried to kill him, but now… now they were just five people. Five sufferers, lost, united, in grief.

And, as meager as they were, Jaune accepted it. He embraced his enemies as they embraced him, grieving together what they and their loved ones had suffered. It was _painful, _deep in the core of Jaune's heart, it was a pain greater than the knife that had nearly killed him. But there was more in it than the pain. Jaune felt the pain of those around him, and knew that they felt his pain as well, an inhalation and exhalation of their suffering, sharing it between them.

But then…

It was like the air _cracked. _Like seeing a broken mirror, the spatial concept of what was before his eyes no longer functioned. Jaune knew it had to be magic, but he'd never seen-

As soon as it had broken, it had unbroken, only now, standing in the room and _wreathed _in a dark cloud, was Weiss.

Not that Jaune realized it at first. She looked like Weiss, but her regal bearing was _nothing _like his sister. And this power… the crackling scent of that magic alone filled Jaune with _fear _to behold it, something he had never before felt with his sister. Black magic swirled about her, magic that made the air shimmer, magic grander than even Mother's greatest spellcraft encircled her like a robe. It was like the Pool itself had been mastered by her, brought to serve her will.

Until she staggered, her body exhausted from the spell, the panic now clear on her face. The power around her flickered and Jaune knew that he had to get to her, to reassure her that everything was alright. No matter how exhausted he was, his sister needed him.

"Don't!" she cried out, her eyes again _flashing _with a terrible force, "Don't _hurt _him!"

"I'm okay!" he shouted, snapping from Jacques and Kali to be with his sister. The spell crackling on her hands fizzled as he clutched her tight, relief and shame blooming inside him—for what had not happened, and what he had nearly put her through. "It's okay. I'm okay."

She clutched him even tighter, her legs almost giving way. "I won't," she sobbed, "I won't let anyone take you."

"I know," he said, "I know," and held her in his arms.

Emotions swirled, both within and without. Guilt and relief, sorrow and pain and that deep, quiet love that had bound Jaune and his sisters together in the _hell _of their childhoods. He held her, just held her, and clung to the moment for as long as he could.

"Weiss," he asked, thoughts coming back as he relaxed his hold on her, "how did you… how did you _do _that?"

Teleportation like that was rare. Jaune knew there were powerful Semblances that allowed it, but at this distance, they were very rare, and had strict limitations on how they worked. It certainly wasn't a skill Weiss had demonstrated knowing before. _Mother _didn't even have the magic to do something like that.

Weiss looked up at him, weakly, her eyes still wet with relief that he was okay, "Mother… helped..."

Jaune's heart sank, a pit in his stomach opened up. Mother was… here? _Here? _The fear seized him as his mind conjured up images of what would happen… what she might _do _to them. "Mother?" he croaked, his voice high.

"No..." she murmured, "not her… _my _mother. She helped me… held the spell together…"

"Willow?" Jacques gasped from behind him.

So caught up in his relief, Jaune had almost forgotten there were others in the room.

Weiss looked up. Jaune turned, saw that Weiss and her father were looking at each other, eye to eye, for the first time since the disastrous meeting that had caused a panic.

"F-father?" she murmured, dazed.

"You… you saw..." he swallowed, "You saw... your mother?" he asked. Behind him, Winter Schnee, dazed, almost disbelieving, leaned forward, needing to hear the answer.

"She helped… Helped me get here."

With those words, the man's composure broke utterly. Jaune saw the tears sparkling in Jacques's eyes, but only for a moment before his shoulders slumped and the wave of grief began, great, racking sobs shaking his entire body.

In response, Weiss did something Jaune had never expected.

She went over to Jacques and threw her arms around him as he sank down to his knees, his emotions proving to be too much to remain standing.

"We've… we've done something _terrible..." _he whispered into his daughter's shoulder.

"It's okay," she said, "Because… because Jaune _says _it's gonna be okay..."

As they broke their hug, Jaune looked around the room. It was hard not to be touched by the reunion, with Winter moving forward to embrace her sister. _Her sister… _a thought like that had been an unpleasant one, but now, even after everything they'd done… they were just six people now, six grieving people who'd had their lives taken from them by an act of unimaginable cruelty. They had tried to do something terrible to him, but Jaune thought of his own parents. Thought of the pain he saw on their faces upon seeing him for the first time in fifteen years. The grief they'd all been put through, just like he had with his sisters.

Jaune went back to Kali Belladonna, the woman who had tried to kill him, and pulled her into an embrace. She was surprised, too surprised for words, but she accepted it, clinging to him as she trembled with remorse. Then he embraced Ghira, the big man holding him against his chest, until Jaune felt in his heart that sense of closure. That he could just… let go of the pain.

Finished with his task, he returned to his sister's side.

"Don't hurt Jaune," she said to the assembled families, the final word on the matter, "He- he protected us. Even… even when things got bad. He was always there."

All around them, Jaune could see, hear, _feel_ the tears of all present. The Schnees, the Belladonnas, himself and Weiss. But in the grief, there was something bright, even if it was small. Hopeful. The tears of knowing what had narrowly been averted, and the tears of knowing that, for the first time in fifteen years, they could all feel like they could connect with each other.

They, all of them, had a lifetime of trauma to overcome. But it just might be something they could achieve, together.

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**


	35. Departure

Ozpin sipped his coffee, gazing from his office to far-off Vale.

Shimmering jewel of the coast. The global center of arts and culture, home of millions of souls bravely standing together in a hostile world. It looked so peaceful from up here. Hardly looked like a Kingdom that had been invaded and occupied by a foreign power only yesterday. Hardly looked like the site of what had almost been the beginning of the end of the world.

He heard the _ding _of the elevator and turned to see Summer enter his office, looking _exhausted _(she had more than earned the right to look it), still wheelchair bound until her leg fully healed, but… unbeaten.

That was the story of the day. In spite of everything, _they had held, _and that had made all the difference. What could have been the start of global war had ended with all parties, if shaken up and worse for wear, _still alive, _and a guarantee of understanding had been forged. There was still work to be done, the endless task of working for cooperation, not to mention, explaining to the Board how much it would cost to repair the damage done to the school in the battle, but for today, at least, everyone had stepped back from the ledge. And that was a win.

Summer saluted him, and Ozpin returned it. Even through it all, even though they were colleagues now, of arguably comparable rank, she still gave him the respect of being her former teacher and commander. If students like Summer Rose thought he was still a man deserving of respect… he had to be doing something right.

"Summer," he said as he, to hell with decorum, walked over to pull her into a tight hug, "How's the leg?"

"The chair's unnecessary," she grumbled, "I could walk on my own two legs if I _wanted _to, just gotta keep wearing this cast to keep the doctors happy. Though..." she glanced around the room, seeing the pockmarked proof of his earlier battle with James, "How'd things go with General Ironwood?"

"James was a skilled fighter, but..." he smirked, and Summer picked up his meaning, giving a sly smirk of her own.

"Vale stands, unconquered," she replied.

"That she does," he laughed, "That she does..."

Ozma was not a Valean. He was older than the Kingdoms themselves, had lived in incarnations from every place that people hailed from, but _Ozpin_ had been born here, and a part of him still felt the pull of national pride from watching as his Kingdom stood its ground and fought for reason and dignity when all else had turned to bloodshed.

Casting his eye out the window, he could see Vale in the distance, still glittering like a precious gem against the ocean's blue. A clear sky, free of warships. It didn't look like it had been on the knife's edge of the apocalypse, hosting street fighting between foreign troops, partisan irregulars, terrorists, and criminal syndicates all under the machinations of an immortal enemy. But peaceful cities belied the wounds that lay deep beneath the surface.

The diplomatic rebuilding would be a… wearying task. So many years of work, so many lifetimes, to build the academies, to promote unity, to ensure that all the world, Human and Faunus, could cooperate against the Grimm… it had been set back considerably. Even though things had ended peacefully, even though the realization of how close they'd all come to making a tragic mistake had forced them to swallow their pride, actions like this left scars deep in the psyche.

It would be hard for Valeans to trust Atlesians, hard for Atlesians to open up to the other Kingdoms. There were Mistralians and Vacuans who would be angry at how swiftly their Kingdom's leaders had capitulated to Atlesian interests, and, with no war to distract them, it would soon be obvious that the influence of James Ironwood was felt deep in their political systems. And, of course, the Faunus of the world would now find themselves in a difficult position, with Menagerie's future tied up in the failed attack on the Prince. War was averted, but a new task was upon them.

But… there was also hope. Hope standing in the form of a young man who'd walked to his own execution to beg his assassins for forgiveness for crimes he should never have had to bear. And in doing so, reminded them all of a common quality between them, human, Faunus, Grimm… a quality of mercy, of togetherness, of love that stands against the inexplicable and unjust cruelty of the world.

But that mercy came with a terrible price.

"And… how is Yang?" Ozpin asked.

Summer's smile faded, Ozpin's heart sinking along with it. "She's recovering," she said, but there was no optimism in her voice. "The doctors… they weren't able to save her arm. It had been a long shot with the Grimm effects, but… but, yeah..."

She gave a dark nod.

"I'm terribly sorry," Ozpin said, quietly.

But Summer gave him a tired smile. "The bigger problem is that Tai is _never _letting me be the only parent around her ever again… or if he's ever going to let Yang out of his sight."

It was good to be able to joke, at least a little. One of the first things Ozpin had done when he'd heard about Yang's injuries was to contact a specialist in Atlas, Pietro Polendina, about possibly getting her a prosthetic. As effectively the only still-standing authority in Vale, Ozpin had a hundred thousand tasks upon him, in international diplomacy _alone, _but he knew to make time for Yang. She might very well have just saved the world in her sacrifice—it was the least he could do to thank her.

"And Ruby?"

Summer's smile grew a bit stronger. "That's all been good news, at least. She woke up a few hours after the fight—took a lot to calm her down, but no coma."

"This must be the fastest recovery of any Silver-Eyed Warrior in _history…" _Ozpin mused, trying to remember if he'd _ever _heard of a feat like this, "Do you believe that Maria's training was responsible or the intensity of her awakening?"

"Ha, I can't honestly answer, but I do have a guess," Summer laughed gently, a wistful smile on her face, "She couldn't afford to go into a coma, not like I had… not when she had something so important to do here."

Ozpin smiled, giving her a nod to explain.

"She told me… Ruby asked me if I could go to Vale and get… get a stuffed frog for Weiss before she left. She wasn't going to let Weiss leave for the Grimmlands without giving her something to remember her by."

It had been an extraordinary situation. But as Headmaster of Beacon Academy, Ozpin was surrounded by the most extraordinary people in all of Remnant. Summer, Amber, and Qrow had done their part as well as he could ever ask of his agents, but more so, he had found in his students, like Yang and Ruby, a nobility and goodness that gave him hope for the future. Even across his endless years, he really and truly believed that this time, things could go differently. He had hope for Jaune and Pyrrha and Emerald and Blake and Weiss, that the five of them could bring in real change to the world, and one for the better.

They'd be departing for the Grimmlands soon, but they had one last night in Remnant. He wished he could stop it. Could keep them here instead of send them back to Salem's clutches. But even if that was impossible, with the world's peace so tenuous, he _wished _he could send them off with a hearty goodbye, or, at least, a good meal—with Peter invited, of course, to wow them all, or, at least, the young Weiss, with his stories—but they were still recovering. They deserved far more than the world could afford them. For all his pride in his students and agents, all his concerns about geopolitics, he could not lose sight of what was in front of him: five young ones, from every Kingdom, four humans, four women, one man, one Faunus, all marked by a cruel tragedy meted out by the caprices of their enemy. When the hour had come, when they had every reason to put no faith in the Kingdoms of Remnant, they had pulled back from the brink.

He wished that he had some way of _thanking _them, of telling them how proud he was, how much courage they had showed. Because they would soon be returning to the enemy, the great Enemy herself, and she would not be pleased with what happened. Ozpin wished he could give them some armor against her influence, but, as he had known for the thousands of years he had fought this war, when it came to Salem, his influence had many, many limitations.

* * *

Reaching into her bag for a cigarette, Kali Belladonna held the slim, white cylinder in her hands… and then threw it in the trash. Threw the pack in after it. Yes, she was stressed, yes she was nervous, but after all this… it was the least she could do to bear it. Nicotine wouldn't make a difference here.

She leaned back in her chair. She wasn't sure if she wanted to sit or stand or pace or anything, but that was the state of the world right now. Disaster so _narrowly _averted, and nobody was sure of what to do now. But for everything that had happened, there was hope in her heart. Even with the _unthinkable _experience she had, the horror of realizing that her daughter was lost to her… Kali knew now that it wasn't because her daughter had become a monster. It was because _she _had.

But as shameful and awful as that was to think, it also meant that Blake was… that Blake had a family. A family she cared for more than the world and a family that cared for her in return. That Blake, her baby girl, through all she had experienced in the Grimmlands, had people who made her happy. That kept her safe.

Kali couldn't have asked for anything else.

"Ma'am?"

She turned to see Ilia, who had evidently slipped into the room without her noticing. She was off her game today, wasn't she?

"Yes?" she asked.

"It's the Schnees," she replied, "They'd like to… they'd like to speak with you and Ghira."

"Let them in," she said, a faint smile on her lips. They understood what Kali doubted anyone else would, how the mix of guilt and regret and hope and relief that they bore could make even a lick of sense.

Ilia got the door, and Ghira came in with Jacques and Winter. Kali couldn't lie—it felt good to see them. They alone knew the full depths of their conspiracy, understood their guilt, but also the overwhelming _relief _that their children were okay. All over the world, there were factions who believed they had done nothing wrong, that there was no crime in attacking a creature of the Grimm. But in this room, they all understood what had happened better than any of their supporters or detractors.

She pulled Winter into a hug, her maternal instincts refusing to let her _not _do so, as she held her and asked, "How are you holding up, dear?"

"As best I can be," she answered, "considering the circumstances."

And they were harsh circumstances, but Winter was a strong girl. She'd borne more on her shoulders than anyone could ever ask of her since she was still a child and yet she had proven herself capable, time and time again.

"And..." Kali asked, looking for her words, "And how is your position?" she finally settled on.

"I'm no longer a Specialist, I'm afraid," Winter admitted, quietly, "I offered my resignation to the Council of Atlas this morning, along with General- along with James, and they accepted it."

Jacques gave a sad nod. "I expect that we'll be tried for our role in the attempted assassination, but… nobody seems certain if there _will _be a trial, since it would implicate… so many. Still," he sighed, "Winter and I, we have agreed… between what we've done and what we _nearly _did, we need to face the consequences of our actions. We have to show an example to the world, and it has to be done by the Law."

It was the truth. A senseless tragedy had been narrowly averted, but while most of the world was desperately trying to find a way to pretend nothing had happened, to just claim a do-over… justice didn't work that way. And Ghira and Kali had lived their lives for justice. And, in this moment, Jacques confirmed that he, too, had a commitment to justice in his heart. He was a good man, even for what they'd done together, even as unthinkable as it might be for her younger self to imagine that.

"Kali and I have privately announced our intent to resign from the government of Menagerie," her husband admitted, "The formal announcement comes later... once Sienna's confident of the... situation."

So much had happened on that day, it was easy to forget some of the world-changing conflicts that had exploded outside of her vision. Adam's coup had failed, but it revealed something Kali already knew: Sienna Khan's grip on the White Fang was far weaker than the prideful tigress would have ever admitted before it had nearly overthrown her. Their conversations afterwards had been terse, but... they had both been humbled. _Deeply_ humbled, and there was sisterhood in that, a faint reminder of the bond they had once had.

"It's uncertain if anyone can actually try us criminally, as Heads of State," Ghira continued, "but we're going to request that an International Commission headed by Ozpin fully investigate the events that led us to this. So that there's no more hiding, no more secrecy. We accept our responsibility in these crimes."

Jacques sighed. "I hope it'll be for the best, but… it'll be a long way to go to change things. We may have been the beneficiaries of public opinion in our scheme, but we were hardly the ones driving it. Tensions are high, but, hopefully, our example can do some good."

"And Whitley?" Kali asked. She cared for the Schnee children, and while Winter was inescapably connected to their conspiracy, Kali feared for the one who had been kept innocent of their crimes.

But Winter smiled, sending a surge of relief through Kali's breast. "He's… he's free of any suspicion. And he's a strong young man—we spoke this morning and… he understands what we did and why it matters. He promised he'll be doing what he can to keep the Schnee name respected, even as we face our future."

"Our children are alright," Jacques said, quietly, "and that's all that matters."

Another truth. Blake… Blake might never forgive her, but Kali knew that her little girl, her darling daughter, was alright. She was herself and she'd grown, as strong and beautiful and hopeful as Kali had always imagined for her child. And pride, pride equaled and marked by her grief, bloomed in her chest. She knew Blake would be alright. And, like Jacques said, that was all that mattered.

* * *

A flight of birds passed by, silhouetted by the setting sun. She didn't know what kind of birds they were. Perhaps Emerald could help with her book, but Pyrrha knew nothing of avians. Just that they were graceful looking things, their wings rhythmically flapping as they flew over the Emerald Forest. It was funny—there were no birds in the Grimmland. Not real birds, at least. Just Nevermores and other Grimm semblances of life. All this time in imagining herself as The Eagle when she'd never seen an eagle before in her life.

Pyrrha turned away from the window. It was too much of a reminder of what they'd be leaving behind when they returned to Mother. She took a moment, instead, to look over her siblings within the room. It was tense, but… better than it could have been. Jaune was sleeping. The doctors had given him something to sedate him, and while Pyrrha did not trust anyone touching her brother, much less any kind of _drug _they might be given him… she felt calmed to see him sleeping so peacefully.

He wasn't well. Not by a long shot. But he was still with them, and that was all Pyrrha could ask for. They would be departing for the Grimmlands soon, the urgent political situation needing to be addressed, and hopefully tamped down, even if they were out of the physical danger. Pyrrha wasn't looking forward to seeing Mother, but… Pyrrha felt that she was stronger now. Stronger than the girl who'd ventured forth from the Grimmlands, who thought war was the only way she could tell a boy she loved him.

But at the same time… she felt more _meager _than that girl could ever have imagined. A guilt that cut deep, knowing the cost of her rampage, the things she _couldn't _take back before-

"You're not going to cut your arm off and offer it to her," Blake suddenly cut in, not even looking up from her book.

"I wasn't going to-"

"But you were _thinking _it, weren't you?"

Pyrrha looked away, her cheeks hot. She knew that Grimm matter in a human body wasn't… the blessing it might seem to be, but she had _cut off her friend's arm, _and that left Pyrrha feeling… intensely guilty. Yang had survived, yes, but what kind of consolation was _that?_ She'd almost killed her! She'd permanently _maimed_ her! When Yang was only trying to- trying to make her _stop. _Every nerve was _screaming _at her to do something to make up for it, for Yang and Ruby and Mrs. Rose and _everyone whose school she'd destroyed,_ but… Pyrrha bowed her head. She knew that there wasn't much she _could _do to make the situation better than apologize as _sincerely _as she could.

"Hey," Blake interrupted, getting up from her seat to rest a comforting hand on Pyrrha's, "We all made mistakes yesterday. Any of us could have been… could have done something that _couldn't _be forgiven and… and I'm thinking about that too. Trust me, we're all with you on this."

She felt a little better to hear Blake admit she was thinking the same thing. How close they'd all come to… to the unthinkable and how _narrowly _they'd been pulled back.

"Thanks..." she said, feeling how inadequate an answer it was as she said it. Blake gave her a pat and a sympathetic look. It wasn't much, but… Pyrrha was coming to terms with the fact that they had a massive arsenal for hurting people, and an _incredibly _limited power to _help._

Still, she felt restless, just… standing around, with so much she'd done _wrong _that she still had to fix. She clenched her fist, feeling the raw, useless _power _carried within her body, then relaxed it, trying to trace where all that coiled potential _went _when it was no longer needed. Shaking her head, Pyrrha looked for something better to do with her time.

"Hey Weiss," she gently asked her little sister, "how're you doing?"

Pyrrha didn't have the kind of emotional bond with Weiss her siblings had, but Pyrrha was the only one of them who knew what it was like to have the Darkness take such a hold of them. From Jaune's description, Weiss had pulled as deep as only Pyrrha had ever gone before, calling up magical instead of martial strength—and that took a toll on one's psyche.

Weiss just put her arms around her knees and squeezed tight. "I'm… I'm okay."

She didn't sound it.

At a loss for what to do, Pyrrha gave her sister a hug. First, to just be a quick squeeze, but then… she just held her for a while. They'd been through so much in only a few days, and Pyrrha felt so much sorrow and exhaustion within her that she couldn't _bear _to let Weiss go. Weiss hugged her back, in her simple, indescribably Weiss-like way, and Pyrrha nearly melted into her sisters arms. They might not be okay just yet, but she still had her sister.

"Um," Emerald cut in, "I just heard from Neo, and, uh, things got pretty crazy. Out in Vale, I mean, and-"

_"How _did you hear from Neo?" an incredulous Blake asked.

It was a grounded question, considering that security was still very high and, while Pyrrha didn't like thinking about it, so were tensions.

Emerald, though, answered the question by raising a red brick that a note had clearly been wrapped around. It was an astounding feat of subterfuge to sneak past not only Vale's security, but to do it under the nose of the Daughters of Salem… only to end it by flinging a brick through a window? Pyrrha had never met Neo, but she was starting to get a strong sense of what kind of woman she was.

"Anyways," Emerald said, looking back to the note, "She and Roman led some street fighting against Atlas and other forces! There, wow, there was fighting all across the city, and she said something about bullfighting, too? I… don't know if that's literal, is it-" Blake shook her head _no, _"I just- I was wondering if it was a metaphor or a Valean tradition thing, like, maybe they have bulls they can release into the street," she added, defensively, "Oh, and she drew a little picture of a frog because she heard-"

"_WHERE?" _Weiss asked, suddenly at their side. Emerald hesitantly extended the letter, which Weiss quickly snatched from her hand, soon finding her entranced by the small, cartoon frog, with a speech bubble saying, "Ribbit! Vale stands unconquered!"

"It sure does, little froggy!" Weiss said effervescently, and Pyrrha couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Well, this had been a gods-damned mess.

But that's how Cinder had felt ever since she first arrived back in Remnant. She knew what her mission was. She knew what the right thing to do was. But time and time again, she proved herself a _coward, _proved the lie that she only _thought _she was harder, stronger, more insightful than the rest of the sheep. That her suffering taught her the way the world _really _worked. But these children…

No, they weren't children. Not any longer. Not by age or by character. They had faced the worst that the world could _possibly _throw at them, had _broken, _a moment that, briefly, shamefully _vindicated _Cinder's worldview, but at the last moment… they pulled back. They proved that the world wasn't what Cinder thought it was. That there was goodness if you were only _strong enough _to fight for it.

Which she, decidedly, was not.

Counting out the bearer bonds, trying not to let the throbbing reminder of her hangover distract her count, she passed them to the young, silver-haired man. "My condolences for your loss," she said, gruffly.

He just shrugged in a flippant manner. "Eh, my only regret is I didn't get to kill the old bastard myself. But getting him off my back, plus a generous payday… does a lot to make up for that."

Cinder gave him an arch look, a bit of contempt in her face, but… well, she'd hired his father in an attempt to set off an apocalyptic war. A war sparked by a failed assassination against a man she deeply admired and cared for. She was in no place to judge anyone.

"So..." the young man said, flipping through the bonds with his finger, admiring the sound of the paper rustling, "You have any tasks for me or can I get to enjoying my vacation?"

She was about to dismiss him, but then thought better of it. "I do have a need for you, but too many things are in the air to say anything… specific."

He just chuckled. "Well, I'm not surprised. Things are pret-ty crazy after, you know, the whole world almost went to war. Figured things are still unsteady, and that means work for me! ...but you're paying to keep me on retainer, of course—don't worry about me taking any side jobs while you're, _ahem, _figuring things out."

His voice had a perpetually sarcastic tone that made it hard to tell if he was actually sarcastic or just using it as a cloak. Cinder could certainly see through a bluff as amateurish as this, but… she didn't have the energy. "Menagerie," she said, coolly, "I have work that needs to be done in Menagerie, and I want you ready to be on site should I need you."

Nodding, the young man contemplated the meaning of her words, then flashed her a cheeky grin. "Figured… ugh, hiding out in Menagerie won't exactly be _fun, _but the beaches are nice enough… so I'm in. Hey, I'm betting it can't be for the _obvious _reason, so, lemme guess... is it for that creepy doctor guy, whatshisname, Merlin? Hooo, I _did not like _him!"

Cinder shook her head. "If I wanted you to assassinate Dr. Merlot," she told him crisply, "I would have told you to do so. But his silence is secure. It is… work that depends on how certain situations develop. I will speak no more of it until such time as it is needed."

The boy just shrugged, "Fine, fine. Just give me a call by the usual method—oh! And if you get the chance, do let people know that there's still a Black Family Assassin out there carrying on the trade. Don't want clients to assume that just cuz my old man's bit it that I'm not _just as good _at whatever needs doing."

Cinder nodded with a curt affirmative. With a flourishing bow, one final irreverent gesture for the road, Mercury Black finished the meeting and departed.

His confidence was worrying. Cinder didn't doubt that Marcus had taught his son everything he needed to be dangerous, and, inexperienced or not, Cinder knew that she much preferred to have him on the other side of the planet for as long as she could keep him there. Admitting to the Queen that her plan had failed would almost certainly result in dire consequences. And after that, her survival might rely on her ability to evade an entire underworld of assassins. The Queen's reach was long, and her wrath, terrible... and that was assuming Salem wouldn't handle the matter _herself._ It was folly. _Idiocy._ She was _surely_ only buying time, but…

Time was really all she had.

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**

**With this, Act 5 comes to a close and the story finally leaves Beacon after 35 chapters. But the story isn't over yet, and the danger only grows greater with Salem poised to make her grand appearance. Ever since Chapter 7, people have been asking why Jaune is so "weak." And outside the obvious (he's a suicidally depressed teenager deeply in denial about his grotesquely abusive childhood), you're going to get the _why _of it all. I'm looking forward to it.  
**

**Next up is Act 6: Mother, Maiden... and Crone.**


	36. Homecoming

**CW: This story has had an ongoing warning for Child Abuse, but this is the point where the abuser returns to the story. Childhood trauma and cruelty will be featured in detail. Reader discretion is advised.  
**

They didn't talk much on the flight back.

It wasn't bad, not all bad, but it was… strange. Weiss didn't like strange. Didn't like all the questions. What happens next? They stopped a war, Jaune almost died, they all… they had all been tested. Her head still hurt, bits and pieces of what it was like to be a grown up still bouncing around. A flash, and she had thoughts about things she didn't understand, and then it was gone. Getting fainter each time, as it went on. Which was… good. Weiss didn't want to rush things. Jumping forward, doing everything she did to cast that spell, it had been very scary, and she didn't like it.

She glanced upwards, nervously, but the Pretty Lady wasn't there. She hadn't been there since the spell, but Weiss had the feeling she wasn't gone. She was still here, still with Weiss. Just… didn't need to be hovering there all the time. She felt better for it. At least, a little bit.

It still wasn't going great.

Weiss sat, quietly, trying to think of some other way this could go. But flying meant going forward, even if she didn't want to. She looked over to Emerald, who seemed to be thinking a lot. Same with Blake. And Pyrrha. And Jaune. Jaune still had the cut that had scared them all, the really ugly one. Weiss didn't like looking at it and _especially _didn't like that she had to look at it every time she looked at Jaune, cause she was short. Maybe she should get him a scarf? Or would he know it was about his neck?

She squeezed tight on Also Ruby, the big stuffed frog Ms. Fall had brought to her with a card from Ruby while Ruby was still in the hospital. It was green, _really _green, and the frogs Weiss had met were more brown. But Weiss always colored frogs purple, so she knew there were lots of colors of frogs. Weiss had wanted to stay until she could come out and she could see her again and thank her for the frog, in the way Blake had taught her to say thank you, but they had to get swept up back home before she got a chance.

Weiss thought Ruby was a good name for a frog, because it was from Ruby and Ruby was nice. Emerald said Ruby was already Ruby, so Weiss had added the "Also" to keep them apart. Emerald then said that Weiss couldn't do that, but she was being dumb. And Weiss liked Also Ruby a whole lot, so that settled it. He was a very huggable frog, big and soft and squashy, and he was making the trip much easier. It'd be even easier if she hadn't had to leave so soon, though.

Not like she had a choice.

They had to leave early in the morning. Too early, Weiss didn't like it, cause the sun was flat and in her eyes, so she was squinting while a bunch of people said things. Then they got in the Bullhead and left. Whatever the people said was making Jaune nervous, but Weiss wasn't sure what they were talking about. It sounded like it was about Mother, though. And Weiss didn't like that either.

But at least the flight was almost finished. Blake had told her so, and unlike the last times she'd told her they were almost there, this time she sounded like she meant it. Though that was because she wasn't happy about it. None of them were happy about it, and when Ms. Fall announced over the speaker that they were coming in for their landing, Weiss saw that everyone got tense. She wanted to hug someone, but she was buckled into her seat.

They stayed tense, even as they felt the landing legs go _clunk-clunk _and the door _hiss _open. Stepping down from the big Bullhead steps, Weiss remembered to be careful and hold onto the railing. Everyone was already super-worried, she didn't need to make it worse if she slipped. It wasn't much, but she could do little things to help everyone.

Especially cause the reason everyone was super-worried was because Mother was there.

She was standing across from them, on the landing pad. She didn't look angry, but she usually didn't look angry when she was angry. And she kind of always looked mean. She had eyes like Jaune, but they weren't ever happy. Or friendly.

And Dr. Watts was there, too. Nobody else, which Weiss didn't know if that was a good thing.

"No Callows," Blake whispered to Pyrrha, under her breath.

"Good," Pyrrha whispered back, "I _don't _want to talk with him."

Weiss didn't want to talk to him either.

"My Prince," Dr. Watts said as he stepped forward, "I have heard of your injury, and I would like to assure you that you'll have my _full_ attention to-"

"I fixed him," she said, all bristly, and Dr. Watts stepped away. She didn't like the idea of him looking at Jaune like that, like he was something he could study. He was her _brother, _and she wasn't going to let anyone be mean to him, after everything he'd been through.

Pyrrha put a hand on her shoulder. Not to hold her back, but to let her know she was _proud _of her little sis. They were tough! They could fight off anyone who would-

"Jaune. I would speak to you."

Her voice… every hair on Weiss's body stood up, she felt a _shiver _pass through her as she heard Mother speak for the first time since they'd left for Remnant.

Weiss grabbed Jaune's cape. Maybe it was because she was scared and wanted something to grab or maybe it was to keep Jaune from leaving. But he turned to her with a smile and gently took her hand in his and whispered, "It'll be okay. Don't worry."

She didn't want to let go. She wanted to just hold on, to keep him here. To get back on the airship and go back to Vale, where there were nice people and frogs. But… she couldn't stop him. Some things just keep moving forward, no matter what you want.

So, she let go.

Jaune gave her hand another reassuring squeeze and a smile that told her that everything was going to be alright. Things always ended alright. But Weiss… Weiss felt scared. Not as scared as when he left them in their room at Beacon, but something… something told Weiss that she should be very scared right now. Very, very scared.

* * *

Being a creature of the shadows, Blake felt _at home _in the Grimmlands in a way deeper than even her sisters did. They all felt more at home here than in Beacon, even if they were wary of returning, but back in this familiar environment, Blake felt like she could truly _breathe _again.

After a string of humiliating failures and defeats, Blake felt like she could finally exhale, stop putting up a front of competence and just _be herself. _And… she'd missed being in a place that wasn't so… _human. _Everywhere she went, _especially _when she was around Yang, was so… noisy with life. And while Blake had gotten _used _to it, it sure was a relief to get a reprieve.

Blake ran her hand across the silk sheets of her bed. She marveled at how familiar it felt, this was _her _bed, but… well, she wasn't the same Blake who'd left. As disastrous and _horrible _as the trip had gone… there had been things that changed everything. She'd both confessed her feelings to Jaune and discovered that they went much deeper than she had thought. She had strengthened her bonds with her sisters and… she'd realized that she wasn't a murderer. When the time had come, all of Blake's cool composure had deserted her and she learned that she could not kill an innocent man.

She glanced over to Jaune's bed, the only one not occupied, the night light next to it upholding its vigil even in its master's absence. Blake's eyes darted over to where Pyrrha was, also sitting on her bed and looking over to where Jaune _should _be right now. There was… a lot of things that had to be settled between them. Now was _not _the time to dump a relationship question onto Jaune's lap, but… when _would _they talk about it?

It'd be easy, so easy, to just… give him up. To concede him to Pyrrha, the sister who would _never _hurt him, who had never hurt him, but Blake's heart couldn't- couldn't just _accept _that. Maybe she was greedy, maybe she was about to ruin things just like she always did, but well, she wasn't going to _give up! _

But that thought didn't inspire anger or jealousy, but rather… well, they were sisters. They were competing now, and Blake felt like she had certain advantages on her side that Pyrrha was far too innocent to be considering. She hadn't had the _best _luck executing plans recently, but Blake felt a renewed sense of confidence as she thought through her options... a confidence that extinguished as soon as her eyes darted back to the nightlight. Another reminder of who Blake knew she was.

She took another look around the room to see where her sisters were. Pyrrha had that longing look, not just of Jaune's absence, but her absence of purpose. She'd never admit it, but… smashing through the defenders of Beacon like they were rag dolls… it was what she'd waited her whole life for. Blake knew the feeling. She felt horrible for what had happened, but at the same time… it was a tantalizing taste of the women they could be.

Emerald seemed in good spirits, though. She was writing letters, it seemed, and while Blake _could _covertly spy on what her sister was writing, she knew not to. And correcting her spelling on "reconnaissance" would only annoy her on top of revealing she was reading her private thoughts. But both of them, Pyrrha and Emerald, anxious and relaxed, there was a cloud over them that Blake was very aware of.

Simply put: for all their growth and accomplishment they'd made at Beacon, for everything they'd learned… one look from Mother and they had all shrunk back down to children. Blake had overcome the Darkness within, but there were deeper hooks on her psyche, ones that let her _talk _a tough game, but when Jaune was called forward to account for the trip… none of them had stepped forward to insist that he not go alone.

Well… her gaze fell upon Weiss, idly arranging her dolls. A small gesture, to hold Jaune's cape, but… none of the rest of them had done _anything _by comparison.

"Uh, I know we don't have to, uh, talk right now," Emerald piped up, "but… well, I'll just say it: we're not safe here."

Perhaps Blake had sold her sister short...

She looked up to Emerald, so directly broaching the subject Blake had been overtly thinking about for more than a year. She'd brought up this very topic with Pyrrha their very first night at Beacon, but hearing it dropped before the lot of them… it made the air _prickle _with an electric potential. A single word hung over them all:

Treason.

Maybe they hadn't made a strong impression on the first meeting, but things were still different. They'd fought off the Darkness to resist Jaune's order. Mother's command had a hold on them, yes, but from personal experience, Blake knew that their loyalty lay with their brother—and now all four of them had been exposed to both the reality that they _weren't _safe with Mother and the possibility that they could… have her removed.

Pyrrha shook her head, bringing Blake back to reality. "When Jaune gets back, we'll make a decision. The five of us—no more trying to do things on our own. We'll hear Jaune and he'll hear us. We've made too many mistakes just… running off on our own."

"We're strongest together," Blake chimed in, "And… I mean, I'm not _saying _anything, but the five of us together, we're… we're stronger than she is."

A rustle passed through the room. Yes, they'd folded at the first test, but if they prepared… They'd all overcome the Darkness within, _it _served them now, it was _theirs _more than it was Mother's. And it was true—nothing could beat Pyrrha, Weiss had demonstrated that her magic was far greater than anyone knew, Emerald had dueled a Maiden to a standstill, and this time… this time they'd have Jaune leading them. They would be _unstoppable _if they had him behind them. So Blake continued, "And I think she knows it. Which means it doesn't even have to be a fight, just a..."

"A reminder..." Emerald finished the thought.

Blake nodded and glanced to Pyrrha, then Weiss. The two of them were definitely considering her words. And Jaune… once he got back, she'd fill him in. Advise him on his options, bringing in Pyrrha, Emerald, and Weiss's perspective, and then the five of them… they'd make their decision. Together.

"There's no frogs here, and I don't like that," Weiss said, as though that was both the crux of the issue and the final word on the matter. Then, thinking better of it, she added, "Ruby says there's all kinds of frogs I _haven't _met yet. Even if I like bullfrogs the best." She gave her toy frog another squeeze. "Some of them have a lot of colors."

Blake couldn't keep herself from giving Weiss a reassuring smile. "We'll be back to Remnant some day," though _when _was a question Blake couldn't really guess, "and I'm sure you'll get to meet all sorts of frogs."

Weiss brightened at that.

And Blake couldn't lie. It did… lighten the mood a little, in a dark time.

* * *

The Pool of Darkness.

Not a place he went to often. Sometimes, his sisters, particularly Blake, had to be dissuaded from investigating it, but Jaune had never felt any urge to _want _to be here. But Mother… Mother made him come to see it. It was the place where she seemed the most… her emotions were always unreadable, but she seemed calmer here. Jaune didn't quite understand the appeal. The Pool's impossible depths and murky darkness carried and concealed so much for Jaune. It was here that he was changed, submerged into the Darkness, looking through the infinite void, feeling his soul _tearing apart,_ and hearing the whispers of a thousand generations until he shut it out, summoning the Light Inside and _pushing _against the emptiness, proclaiming that _he was._ He was pulled out by Mother and named Heir, right on this spot. And it was here that he faced Mother now, at long last, to account for his trip to her.

So many things were happening, had happened. Unknown after unknown, uncertainties, ambiguities… and he felt so _weak. _He could feel the lingering effect of the tranquilizers he had been given still in his system, the unbalanced sluggishness that made him feel top heavy on unbalanced legs, but more so, he had gotten so used to the warmth and closeness he felt in Remnant, with his sisters, with the people, even the Schnees and the Belladonnas, and now… now he was facing Mother, a serene, expressionless figure, as distant and foreboding as a storm cloud.

He felt like he hadn't seen her in a hundred years and also like their last meeting was _yesterday. _Should he assert himself? Show the confidence, the strength he had gained… hard to say that when he was still feeling the tranquilizers they'd put him on for his _suicide attempt. _But… but it was true, wasn't it? He was stronger now. He'd gone out to achieve a mad, hopeless gambit at diplomacy and, by the very _skin _of his teeth, actually managed to pull it off. He had a lot of reasons to feel like he should be confident, in charge.

Didn't he?

But Mother seemed content to let him stew in his anxiety, staring out across the pool, her body language betraying no sense of her emotions. She was angry, he _knew _she was angry, but when he looked at her and saw no trace of anger there, something inside Jaune whispered maliciously that _maybe _he'd be safe. Maybe he'd be okay. Those sweet and terrible lies that made the inevitable so much more _painful._

Remembering what Blake had taught him, Jaune tried to seize the initiative and get ahead of what he knew was coming. "Y-you'll be happy to know," he said, unable to hide his fearful stammer, "that the armies of Remnant have seen that they're no match for my sisters. Pyrrha fought a team of Atlesian Specialists with a-"

"Do you know why you were attacked?" she suddenly asked him, wholly ignoring his words.

Jaune was caught off guard by the question, but more so, the clear undertone of it. That Mother felt that he _should _have known. "The… Belladonna and Schnee families," he stammered out, "in order to retrieve their daughters, they- they thought… m-my death," a tremble came into his voice, uncontrolled and uncontrollable, vibrating through his whole body as the terrible thought of what he went through _coursed _in his veins, "w-would, ah, would free them."

Still looking across the pool, refusing to even look at him, Mother spoke. "I wonder… why did they think to _kill_ you? Why did they think to kill _you? _It's quite the question, isn't it… Something about you that drew the most powerful families in Remnant to see your _death_ as a tool of advancement… and advancement against _me."_

There was no answer to this, not in Jaune. Perhaps, Blake knew what he could say, perhaps Emerald could have given the tactical assessment of his assassination, but they weren't here. Jaune was. Alone.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Jaune exhaled. "I believe they-"

"You have made us look _weak," _Mother hissed, not giving him time for an answer, "and so the Kingdoms believe they can build up their strength, and soon they will move against us. Humanity is a cruel and violent species, something I have told you endlessly, but you… you exposed your _softness _to them, and we _all _almost paid the price for your _weakness._ You _failed _to win diplomatically," she snapped, her voice a whipcrack against Jaune's trembling body, "you _failed _to repay their insult, you _failed _your sisters and you've _failed _me. There _will _be a war, inevitably, and all you've done is made it _worse."_

"B-but, Mother!" he protested, "They- I made a connection with the most influential families in Atlas and Menagerie! We have a foothold for-"

"What influence do they have now?" she asked, her voice pure acid, "Who will listen to their soft-minded emotional appeals when the Kingdoms are in the grip of fear? Your sisters have _shown _their power, have revealed what the Grimmlands are capable of. I would have expected your _sister_ to have told you the dangers of that, but perhaps… perhaps she's learned not to _tell you things you don't want to hear."_

The accusation stopped Jaune's protests in his throat. Blake… did he… did he _listen _to his sisters? Hadn't this whole tragedy been started by his unwillingness to listen to them, his selfishness in going to confront the… to see his killers. To let them _kill _him, to cause that unending _pain _to those he said he loved…

There was only one thing that could eclipse his fear of Mother, and that was the guilt and shame Jaune felt for failing his sisters. Where fear had tightened his muscles until he felt he might _shatter, _guilt opened a pit beneath him, an endless void he tumbled into, _drowning _him as he could do nothing more than whimper at his own failures. Mother… Mother was right, she was right, right about everything…

But then she turned.

Those eyes, red and black and terrible, the piercing gaze of the Queen of the Grimm now turned upon him with a look that told Jaune that _fear _was not to be underestimated, that there was a darker, deeper _pit _than anything he could conjure in his mind. The cruelty that made him a child again, the five year old who had only just discovered what _hell _was. It took the air out of his lungs, banished the thoughts from his mind as he already knew what Mother's words would be before they left her mouth.

"The Hole."

His strength deserted him. A wild tremor crept into his whole body as he began to shake. He'd been away from the Grimmlands so long, he'd forgotten… he'd forgotten how it felt to- to- _oh gods!_

"No, n-no, p-please, Mother, please!" he begged.

"Do not disgrace me any further," she commanded, "And take your punishment like a man."

Black tendrils of dark magic wrapped about his limbs, binding him in place. A wild noise, half-whimper half-shriek emerged from deep within him as instinct took over, wild, primal, maddening instinct as years of childhood terror unmade him. Desperately struggling against his bonds, Jaune clawed at the floor, trying to find some hold to- to stop this! "Please!" he wailed, "Please, I-" looking up to Mother with a look of pure terror and _hopeless _pleading for some ounce of compassion, Jaune found _none. _"No!" he cried, "No, no, _please, _no!" he shrieked to no avail as his grip failed and he was dragged away by his feet down the halls of the Castle.

Dragged back to The Hole.

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter.**


	37. Where The Roses Bloom

**CW: Amputee Trauma**

Yang stretched her arms out as she-

Well, _arm. _Not arms. Not anymore. It was… hard to get used to the change. Not just the fact that she _didn't have an arm, _but how so much of her language just… assumed having two arms! It was one thing when people caught themselves saying things, like when Nora asked if she "needed a hand with anything" and suddenly everyone was falling over themselves to say or not say something, too out of the norm for her to ever just feel _normal._

But when she caught _herself _saying these things in her own head… it was stupid, it was so _stupid, _and yet it was the most _frustrating _thing.

Yang sighed. This was… this was her life now. And it was so _stupid, _but she couldn't stop thinking about it! She'd made _history, _her mom had told her she was being considered for the Huntsman's Star, Nora mentioned the Atlesian Medal of Valor, hell, the Osric Prize for International Peace might even be on the table, but all Yang could think about was her stupid _arm!_

It didn't even hurt that bad. She was still _alive. _But it just… there was no way back now. She'd never have an arm again. And she _hated _how _stupid _she felt that _that _was her problem, but… it didn't make things better.

A knock on the door told her that her alone time was being cut short. Which was good, she needed people in her life or she'd go crazy, and right now, on the verge of another pity party, she _really _needed to hear from someone. "Come in!" she shouted, hoping it'd be someone who could take her mind off of things.

The door creaked as Uncle Qrow came in, who, in spite of not actually taking a _single blow_ in that entire fight, somehow looked more haggard than any of them.

"Hey firecracker," he said as he shut the door behind him, "I, uh, I was gonna bring you some scotch to celebrate your first real mission, but..." he shrugged, then cracked a crooked smile, "Who'da guessed that a hospital would have so many buzzkills?"

Yang felt the ghost of a smile cross her face. He was trying to add some levity, but… so was everyone. And Qrow was just better at it.

"Your dad's been cleared to arrive in Beacon," he said. It had been difficult for Yang, and double difficult for her dad, that the intense security around transportation following the whole basically-a-war situation meant that she _still _hadn't been able to see him in person. "Which means he's probably never going to let me be around you again. So… was nice knowing you, kiddo."

Yang nodded, a weak, sardonic smile on her face."He's probably never going to let _mom_ be responsible for me again," she said and Qrow gave a quick laugh to what was maybe a joke.

But it did break the ice, and as Qrow took a seat next to her bed, Yang felt a little relieved that it was Qrow. Other people… fretted over her. Even Ren, everyone who stopped by had been trying so hard to _act natural _around her while Qrow was just… Uncle Qrow. A human disaster, but his total lack of ability to ever make it seem like his life was going well was making Yang feel a _lot _more at home.

"How's it healing?" Qrow asked, gesturing to her arm. Not even hesitating to broach the subject, not treating her like a _taboo._

Yang shrugged. "Doctors say it's doing well, still a bit," she wiggled her stub, still adapting to the feeling of no weight with the motion, "iffy, but it seems like I'm coming along on schedule. I've got a visit tomorrow to talk about pain management and… well, you know, stuff." Her eyes drooped. None of this was fun to talk about, the list of pills she might be proscribed, the therapies that might help. And then the counseling options… and this was _stupid, _but Yang just… didn't want to take those options because she didn't want to say she needed therapy, but she knew she did and it was- it was just _stupid!_

Qrow, leaning back in his seat, gave her a sympathetic nod. "Oz tells me that he's ordered you a prosthetic arm, from a guy he's got in Atlas. But…" he stroked his chin, "well, you didn't hear this from me, but accepting gifts from ol' Ozpin sometimes gets… weird."

"Weird?" she asked, leaning forward to take her mind off her arm and towards whatever crazy Uncle Qrow story she was about to get.

"I can turn into a bird."

Yang paused, waiting for the punchline. Then stayed pausing, waiting for the joke. She gestured at Qrow to continue, but he just grinned and shook his head.

"It's true—made a deal with the old man and he gave me the power to turn into a bird. Specifically, a crow, cause he's… you've met him. But I'm telling you—not what it's cracked up to be. So if he offers you a magical deal or starts asking you about your favorite fairy tales, just thank him for the prosthetic and politely refuse anything else."

Yang stared at him.

Then her eyes went wide as his body _shrank, _black feathers _sprouting _from his form as his head became beaked and his shape turned avian.

"HOLY SHIT!" Yang gawked at the oversized black bird on the chair that quickly morphed back into a familiar Uncle-ish form, laughing at her surprise.

"Yep, yep," he chuckled, "So if he's got a deal for a replacement arm… take it with a grain of salt."

"Or ask for a cool animal transformation _before _I sign the deal."

"Hey, crows are cool!" her uncle shot back, defensively, but he still laughed.

He leaned back in his chair, finally entering a relaxed pose that let Yang just… exhale a little. Which was nice. It was _impossible _to relax when everyone around her _clearly _was on edge and _especially _because they were on edge because of her arm. But it couldn't quite last. She saw the tension build in her uncle's shoulders, the stopped way he leaned forward, and she could tell that the tension in the room was about to go up.

"Listen, I… I'm not the best at talking to people about emotional things and all," Yang felt a small twinge of guilt for being so annoyed by the tension, when she could _feel _how hard her uncle was trying to help her, "but… I'm a senior Huntsman. So's your mom and your dad, but… they're your mom and dad and all. But what I mean is, I've been in this business a long time, back before the whole deal with Salem, back when Huntsman's work used to be- I mean, not that it isn't dangerous _now, _I mean, you lost your-"

He sighed, "I've… kind of lost my point here, haven't I?" Yang nodded, sympathetically. Uncle Qrow was disorganized on his best day, but this seemed worse. Kind of obvious _why, _but also, she… hadn't asked what had happened with him and Clover, but she _suspected _their relationship had hit a hard thing to come back from. She could understand him being a little out of sorts. "What I wanted to say is," he continued, "I've known a lot of Huntsmen who went out on missions that, well," his eyes darted to her stump, and Yang picked up his meaning.

"They didn't come back from them all together?" she suggested.

"Yep," Qrow nodded, "And if you think—and it's _entirely _your call on what you want to do here—but if you think it might help, I could put out a call to some of my people. I think… they'd know how to help you a lot better than I know how to, you know?"

Yang nodded. "I'll… I'll think about it," she said.

"You don't have to tell me right now."

"Yeah."

They both were quiet for a moment. It wasn't a relaxed moment, for sure. But… it was a necessary thing, for both of them. Yang gave her uncle a small smile, weak, but… resilient. Kind of how she felt right now.

But there was enough sappiness in the air tonight. "So," she asked, with an air of feigned innocence, "As a bird, do you have a bird's opinion on eating worms, or is it still gross? And followup question: how often _have_ you eaten worms?"

Qrow glared at her. "Just because I _have _to be sympathetic to you doesn't mean you get to pull the-"

Yang cut him off with her best impression of Ruby's puppy dog eyes, with her lip quivering and, the coup de grace, her stub wiggling for emphasis.

"Oh, you're gonna be a _nightmare _with that, aren't you," he groaned.

* * *

Ruby felt exhausted.

Apparently, she was supposed to go into a coma when she activated her Silver Eyes. Like, spend _days _in a coma, and when she hadn't… ooh, she was paying for it now. Ozpin said she'd nearly ruptured her entire aura, and when she asked him what that would have done to her if it had ruptured… he admitted that he had no idea. It had never happened before. But Ruby never felt so _drained _in her life, not just in terms of aura or sleepiness… she honestly felt like her _limbs _would just fall off if-

Urk! Maybe- maybe she shouldn't be thinking things like that! Especially with Yang… Ruby shuddered. She'd been able to scroll chat with Yang, since they had both been confined to bedrest. She'd immediately started bawling, despite _promising _to herself that she'd hold it together, for Yang's sake, but seeing her big sis with her arm stump bandaged and knowing… knowing what had _happened _to her… well, what could she _do _but cry? Dad always said she had to be in touch with her emotions, so she was gonna cry when she was sad! And she was really sad! For Yang! And herself!

A sudden clamor outside her room _jolted _Ruby back to awareness, just in time to see the door swing open as her partner executed a tactical roll to cross the room to her bed. She was dressed in her stealth outfit, head to toe black and covered in straps and pouches for "tactical stealth action." And a bandana. Yang had tried to get her to explain the reasoning behind… any of it, only for Ren to tell her she wasn't going to get anywhere with that.

But it cheered Ruby up quite a bit to see her partner outside visiting hours, that she made the effort to break into Beacon's medical facilities just to see her.

"Ren says I'm not supposed to bring you coffee," Nora whispered, "but as Acting Team Leader," a title Nora absolutely _did not have,_ "I've decided that you've earned some."

"Thanks Nora," she said, weakly, "but I don't know if-"

Nora, though, had more to add as she produced the beverage: "It's a chocolate chip mocha frappuccino, double whip, with extra chocolate sauce, extra caramel, _plus _sprinkles—the special, limited time only Halloween ones."

"I'll take it," Ruby quickly answered, accepting the sweet treat and _loving _the refreshing coldness of it all as she took the straw between her lips and enjoyed something _other _than hospital food. So what if Yang derisively called it "ice cream" and Ren, in his non-judgmental judgmental way asked her exactly _how _much sugar was in it, she had _earned _a treat.

"But if anyone asks," Nora whispered, "you've never met a 'Nora Valkyrie' or anybody by that name."

Ruby laughed, almost sending a bit of her drink down the wrong pipe. A sudden, rough burst of coughing struck her as Nora aggressively moved to help by pounding on her back. Fortunately, Ruby had been able to _prevent _Nora's assistance before any damage could be done and the cough could be managed.

As she barked out the last bits of frappuccino from her lungs, Ruby smiled at her partner… only for her positivity to fall away as the thoughts that had been lurking in the darkness of her mind pushed to the front. Nora was a cheerful presence, someone who could always lift Ruby's spirits, but… but this was heavy stuff.

"Do you think..." Ruby checked her words, wondering how to _say _this, "I mean, do you think Weiss is… okay?"

Nora paused. Ruby could see on her face that she didn't know how to answer the question. But then she looked Ruby right in the eye, her gaze as intense as Nora's had ever been, and said, "She's going to be alright. I know it."

When Ruby first met Nora in the Emerald Forest, she had no idea what to expect from the bubbly and, frankly, _incoherent _girl she'd wound up partnered with. Her one goal had been to end up on Yang's team, already fretting about being the fifteen year old, both "too young" to really "get" her teammates, and a prodigy, so everyone would think she was either a weirdo or a suckup to professors.

But Nora had crashed right into her, dropping on top of her from the tree branches she'd been tangled up in. And of all the things Ruby had expected, anticipated, or fretted a teammate might be… Nora was just in a class of her own.

It took a long time for Ruby to learn to appreciate Nora's irreverent positivity, but it took even longer to appreciate that Nora had a perspective that was worth listening to. That she wasn't just a goof-off, but that her childhood as an orphan adopted into an upper-class family gave her insight into things Ruby, with her stable childhood and happy family, had no sense of. Nora _knew _things, sad things, harsh things… but faced it with a smile and unrelenting kindness. And that was a strength and wisdom Ruby really needed to hear from.

Still, she didn't feel wholly relieved from Nora's certainty.

"But… I can't stop myself from just thinking… what if they need our help?" she asked, "And that's, like, crazy, because what can _we _do, but..."

Nora shook her head. "No, it- it makes sense." She sighed, her shoulders slumping as her high-energy cheerfulness slipped away and looked to Ruby with deep empathy. "When you and Yang were up against Pyrrha," she said, "Ren and I… we were _useless. _Like, I don't even think Pyrrha _noticed _us, and that was even _without _Ren using his Semblance! All I did, in the whole fight, was help Ren carry you out of danger, and- and when Yang-"

Nora's voice became choked with emotion. Ruby knew that she and Yang were family to Nora—and family was as important to her as it was to Ruby. What she must have seen in the fight...

Ruby didn't remember any of it, but the sight of Yang losing her arm had been enough to send her into such a berserker rage that she… even _thinking _about it made her feel angry. But she hadn't seen the rest of it. Hadn't seen Yang get back up and talk Pyrrha down. Her mom had almost pulled her leg right out of her hip just to _force _herself to get to them, but Nora and Ren, the both of them had seen their partners nearly die. And Ruby couldn't _imagine _what it'd be like if their places had been reversed, if she was the one watching powerlessly as someone was poised to kill Nora.

"So when it looked… dark," Nora continued, "I knew how _powerless _I felt. It was… it was worse than when I was a kid, before I met..." She let her words trail. Ruby knew the meaning. "But Yang… Yang didn't quit. And I remember thinking, as I got you to the medical team, that there were all these people who _wouldn't evacuate _when they heard the alarms, people who didn't have half a chance against a Grimm invasion, much less _Pyrrha, _they were still there, ready to hook you up to… all the beepy machines Ren said I _cannot _touch, and I thought, 'As long as there's good people in the world… we've still got a chance.' And I think that's _still _true. No matter what."

Ruby blinked away some tears. Nora's cheerfulness carried an _insistence _that was hard to deny. People wrote her off—just like they wrote off Ruby—as immature and weird, but there was _nobody _who was better at helping Ruby look at things from a new perspective, or to cheer her up when she was feeling down.

"They'll be fine," Nora said, reassuringly, "I mean, think about it—Jaune almost got killed, there was almost a war, might have actually _been _a war, depending how you count it, everything goes right to hell, and—_BOOM!—_they managed to take a _huuuuuuge_ step back from the brink! Cause, you know, people like Yang and your uncle and that lady who I _think's_ dating your uncle-"

"She isn't!"

"You don't know that!" Nora cried, throwing her hands in the air, "Anybody could be dating _anyone, _Ruby! You of all people should know that, making me think you were dating the Prince!"

"I wasn't-"

"Which I still don't believe you're _not!" _Nora cut her off. "But everybody, they all put some faith in those Grimm kids, and they stopped everything from falling apart! And besides," Nora leaned back, arms folded across her chest confidently, "you don't remember all this, but Pyrrha? I've now seen her firsthand and I don't think there's _anything _that can beat her in a fight. So no matter _what _they've got in the Grimmlands, I don't think anyone can really beat them. So have a little faith! I think they're gonna do just fine."

Ruby smiled, taking another slurp of her frappe. "Thanks Nora," she said, softly, "that really helped."

"Hey," Nora asked, "what are partners for?"

* * *

Not all people expect to live long enough to see the next generation step up to overtake them. Summer thought she'd been lucky enough for three lifetimes just to be a Silver-Eyed Warrior who lived to see her daughters grow up at all, but she never would have believed she'd live to see the day when _they_ were the ones on the front lines of international peace and security.

Oh, it took _years _off her life, but compared to how _proud _she was of her girls, it was nothing. Both of them, they'd made her so proud. They had… oh, she was making herself weepy and she couldn't do that right now. Had to hold it together, had to be strong...

Trying to get herself together, Summer wiggled her hip a little, just to stretch her muscle and make sure there wasn't any leftover bruising. Of the three of them, she'd been the first to heal. Aura and rest was enough to heal a damaged leg. Ruby had to deal with the more supernatural ramifications of awakening an ancient power from your bloodline, but those issues could be dealt with outside a hospital, with some bedrest and training. And Yang… well, as Summer kept reminding herself, Yang was a strong girl. Someone who didn't give up easily and would… would be back on her feet, cracking irreverent jokes and throwing herself into harm's way before Summer had time to catch her breath!

At least, Summer _prayed _it'd be sooner than she thought. Because she'd been imagining it a hundred different ways every night since she'd been forced by the emergency technicians to get her own injuries looked at. She wasn't about to be parted from her injured daughter's side, not by any force in Remnant, but they'd managed to get her to listen to reason when they explained that they just didn't have room in the academy's surgical unit for her to be there. At that, she'd backed down. Someone, she vaguely remembered it being Bart, guiding her to where a medical team could get a proper look at her leg. Then they'd given her something which… knocked her out cold. She remembered waking up, falling in and out of wakefulness, trying to put together what had been real and what had just been a horrible nightmare.

Most of it had been real.

But she had to put on a brave face. For her children, who were going through something they should _never _have to experience. There'd been peace for so long that Summer, in spite of her vigilance, in spite of _knowing _so well how tenuous this peace was, had started to think that her girls might grow up in a world where this kind of violence… just didn't happen.

Looking into the night sky, Summer searched for a sign of the incoming Bullhead, a flash of light that would signal that things would be better soon. That everything was going to be okay.

It had been on this same landing dock, what felt like a lifetime ago, on a dark and rainy night, when a Bullhead containing five children landed and turned everything upside down. Summer remembered her nervousness, her uncertainty, her sense that she was like a leaf, helpless, about to be caught up in the hurricane. And now, with scaffolding and support structures up on all the buildings, trying to keep walls and ceilings from collapsing further after the fight, it felt a bit like it _had_ been a hurricane that had come through instead of... teenagers. Summer remembered Glynda's final briefing, she remembered distributing duties to Qrow and Amber, sweeping the vicinity for any risk areas, and then the waiting, just like now, staring up at the sky until she saw the light, growing bigger and brighter.

Weeks. Weeks and weeks since she'd seen her husband in person. Weeks of an empty bed, of missing his cooking, his laugh, the way he looked shirtless after a workout… Ha, not what Summer would tell her daughters she was missing, but it was the truth, nevertheless. But she wouldn't be missing him much longer.

She could see the light in the distance, growing brighter and clearer as the aircraft made its approach. They'd been delayed so long that these last moments before she could see him again felt almost _painful. _Shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to the other, Summer felt like she was a schoolgirl once more, transported back to her student days, lacking the _patience _old Professor Zeleny always criticized her for lacking.

But the hell with him! Not- not literally, she quite respected the man and wished him all the happiness in his well-deserved retirement, but the Bullhead was landing and the door was opening and-

"Tai!" she cried as she _dashed _across the tarmac and flung her arms around her husband.

"Summer," he said, caught in a spin, clearly struggling not to cry, and clearly not for the first time today. But in his arms—in her _husband's _arms—Summer wound up being the first to lose that composure. She hadn't thought she was crying until the tears fell on his shoulder. She didn't hold them back; how could she _ever _hold anything back when her husband was here?

They just held each other for a while, husband and wife, separated for _far _too long. She squeezed him tight, as tight as she could, as though she was afraid that letting go would let him slip through her fingers… something Summer had some _unfortunate _experience with.

But thoughts of Raven brought their usual chill to Summer's happiness. She had wondered if- _how _she might notify Raven that her daughter had been maimed, but… she'd find out in her own way, Summer figured. How to contact Raven in the first place was something Summer didn't exactly have leads on, and with everything else on her plate… Raven was a much lower priority.

For example, with the anticipation of her husband's arrival no longer taking up so much of her mind and the gloom returning… she thought about the kids. The ones she had, again and again and again, delivered into mortal danger.

"Alright," Tai suddenly said, releasing her from his embrace, "I can tell, there's something you want to say and don't know how to say it. So… just tell me what's on your mind."

Summer paused. How could a man who had been so _oblivious _to her obvious feelings for him for the _entirety _of their time at Beacon somehow be _so perceptive? _It was weak humor, but it gave her the little bit of strength she needed to speak her thoughts.

"Those kids..." she sighed, "They- they deserve _so much better _than what we gave them here, and I- I can't keep just _standing by _as they… as _everyone_ gets hurt!"

She knew what Pyrrha had done to her daughters. But she Summer knew it wasn't her fault. Not even that she was _reminding _herself that it wasn't her fault—on every level, Summer knew that Pyrrha and her siblings were victims, victims of the same, hateful, monstrous _witch _who had tormented every person in all of Remnant. Pyrrha had been a pawn of her cruelty just as Summer had, delivering those poor children to her in the first place. Their mutual powerlessness to escape Salem's machinations… it broke her heart.

Clinging tightly to her husband, Summer felt the tears in her eyes. For the children, for her daughters, for her peers, for herself, for all the needless _suffering _that they had been born into and could not escape. Tai held her, held her in his arms, letting her feel her emotions and weep it out. There was no counsel for this; she only needed to be held right now.

But as she regained her footing, she looked up into her husband's eyes. He was a good man, the love of her life, and she relied on him greatly to just help her through this.

He kissed her on the top of her head and gently squeezed her to him.

"It's alright Summer," he began, "You've always been a woman who's taken responsibility for things you didn't have to," he said, gently, "Especially considering _everything _you were already responsible for. As a mother, as a Huntress, as a member of the Committee… nobody could find fault with how you handled things..."

She could hear the trail in his voice. "But…?" she prompted.

Tai sighed. "Sum, I know you, and I know you're looking for something to find fault in yourself. I… I feel for the kids, too. I've never met them, but the way you've talked about them, I _know_ that they deserve better than they've got. But… what can either of us _do _for them, especially now? All you're doing right now is burning yourself out."

"I just…" she sighed. There was a lot of truth in Tai's words—she'd always been like this, a woman inclined to take everything as her _personal _responsibility. Learning to accept that Raven being Raven was something beyond her control had been hard enough. "But there has to be _something _we can do to-"

"Summer..." Tai cut in with his . "You and Yang and Ruby have done more for those children than anyone could _ever _have expected. And… I admit, I don't know the kids. But I know you. And I know you've already done so much for them—don't write that out so easily. I'm sure they aren't."

Giving her husband a wry grin, Summer took a moment to wonder how she'd managed to end up with this sweet and gentle man. "Thanks honey," she said, giving her husband a peck on the cheek, "You always help me straighten myself out."

He blushed. "It's… it's the least I can do," he said softly, "I… know how you feel. Past few days, all I've been thinking is—well, what you've been thinking. 'If I had been there...' 'If only I traveled in, I could have...' but… I couldn't have done anything, really. And that's hard on me, and I know it's hard on you."

"We'll get through this," she murmured into his chest, "We'll get through this as a family."

"We will," he said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But now for the really hard part," he chuckled, "I have to go see Yang tomorrow morning and not make everything _worse."_

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**

**I suspect people are going to be mad at me for pulling attention from the Grimmlands right as the last chapter put Jaune in peril, but I wanted to pull back and have a reminder that there are still ramifications and fallout coming from Pyrrha's rampage... also, if I put this chapter after the _next _chapter's ending, you'd all be _really _mad at me. But even as the kids are facing Salem, they are not forgotten back in Remnant, and they have people who care about them.  
**


	38. The Turning Of The World

**CW: Psychological manipulation, alcoholism, suicidal ideation  
**

She was going to die.

Not sure on the how or when, but Cinder knew that _failure _had a price in this line of work, and that price was always, invariably, mortal. Whatever _delusions _of escape she had entertained back at Beacon, of paying off the assassin's brat and fleeing to her Vacuan safehouse… it was an idiotic lie. In the Land of Darkness, there was no strategy, no hope, just the inescapable _presence _of the monstrousness that animated the Grimm from their spawning pools. The monstrousness that, in due time, would kill her. Cinder would face it with dignity and poise, accepting it at the end as surely as she accepted it in the beginning, but that didn't make these moments any less agonizing to experience.

Following behind a Seer as it led her to her destination, she was briefly struck by how _stupid _it looked, that this floating _ball_ was the herald of her death. Of all the things to take issue with the situation, the _aesthetics _might be the lowest on her priorities, but still… there were so many better ways to show her the price of failure than something that involved these idiotic things.

An unbidden thought of Emerald flashed to her mind. She had to admit… it'd be the most fitting end. Emerald was skilled—she wouldn't see it coming. Cinder would suffer _exactly _as much as Emerald wanted her to, and Cinder couldn't deny it: if anyone was owed her blood, it was Emerald. The things she had done to that poor girl… even if she had stayed her hand against the Fall Maiden, if Emerald _knew _what Cinder knew...

But if it'd happen or not, she'd find out when it happened. Or didn't. Either way, she had come to the end of the line, following the Seer into the throne room, the point where she accounted her failure to the Queen of the Grimm. The Enemy of the World. Her employer. And whether or not she continued to draw breath after this meeting, Cinder knew that, once she opened her mouth, she was a dead woman. It would just be a matter of letting her body catch up to this fact.

The Throne… it looked so much more _meager _now. Cinder was an agent of the Throne, who was about to give her life for failing it, and it was just… it was a chair. A big, blocky, uncomfortable _chair._

That she was going to die for. That she had killed for. That she had committed unthinkable crimes for. That she had abused _innocent children_ for.

A chair.

And the unfathomably ancient and powerful witch seated on it.

Salem looked at her coldly, though Cinder wasn't sure there had ever been any authentic warmth to be found behind those eyes. Perhaps, once, she might have seen something there, in her eagerness to impress or her bottomless need for security and protection, but that was in her eyes, not in truth. Just a dear illusion. But no delaying things now…

"My Queen," she began, kneeling reverently, "I… beg your forgiveness for my failure. I take full responsibility for-"

"You think you have failed?" Salem asked, raising her eyebrow.

"The- the mission," Cinder choked out, "I was- I was supposed to _ensure _that a war began, and..." she let her words hang, realizing that she was arguing _for _her own execution instead of accepting her good fortune as it was. She was a mess after this trip, and she wasn't sure how to _stop _being one.

Salem laughed, a sound at once _shockingly _human and deeply unnatural, as she looked to Cinder, a bemused twinkle in her eye. "Yes, my plans in Remnant were not successful. But, Cinder, it was not _your _fault. The children defied my will, yes, but I accept that. It was something to learn from, after all. And you succeeded quite magnificently in your real task."

"My… my real task?"

Cinder couldn't stop herself from asking, even though she knew it was foolish. Salem was going to explain herself or not on her own decision, made well before this meeting, and _asking_ only served to make her seem more pathetic. Still, she asked. All her survival instincts were quite exhausted by this whole situation, so… she might as well just ask for explanation. Save them both the effort of maintaining the charade.

Salem, at least had no issue with giving it. "Oh, don't be _surprised _to learn that I had plans _beyond _the ones you knew. I admit, I did not anticipate the children would prove so… willful, but you, my dear Cinder, have won me something even as you failed. The children… they _trust _you now. Truly trust you, in that they _believe _you have their best interests in mind. I can sense it upon you, hanging _thick _in the air. They bared their souls to you, and you bore your soul to them. Showed them your weakness and _reduced _yourself, and now… now that you've revealed your weakness, they feel like they understand you… no, that's not the right word..." she said, pondering her options, "They… feel _love _for you. Oh?" she raised an eyebrow at Cinder's disbelief, "You don't believe me? I could tell that you and them had suffered together, _grieved _together. It brought you all that much closer."

"B-but… _weakness…" _Cinder murmured, unable to put together anything other than clinging to what her mentor had taught her about power and dominion.

"Weakness can be a strength, my pupil," she said, and Cinder felt a nervous shudder hearing those words in such a grandmotherly tone. Had she ever spoken to her own _children_ so compassionately? "You needed to be _broken _for them to truly accept you. And now they have seen you break, have seen you _lose… _and they see the _humanity _in you now. You're not my agent any longer… you belong to them now. And when this... 'peace' fails, when I've stoked the terror that lurks in the hearts of their bravest and wisest, when the war comes... in their loss and desperation, they will turn to you. And you will guide them."

Cinder could only stare, no words came to her in the moment.

"Ah, but you worry… you worry that it means you've become too _connected _to them, do you not? You feel the _agony _of your betrayal, the pain that comes from hurting those who love you… who _you _love in turn."

Cringing with shame, Cinder was compelled to admit the truth. "Y-yes, I… I feel _terrible _for what I've done, and I know that- I know that you have no patience for-"

But Salem cut her off with a raise of her hand and a gentle smile. "Trust me… it will pass. The bonds you feel with them, those are but fleeting emotions. They feel powerful, but Cinder… you know what you've done to them." Her words, delivered in her kind, gentle style of explanation, were a lash across Cinder's face, a frigid and sudden blast of reality that cut like a knife. She stiffened, looking to the Queen in abject horror, only to be met by another, wry smile. "You fear I might tell them?"

"Y-yes, my Queen," she admitted, too terrified to speak anything less than the truth.

But Salem shook her head. "You need not fear that. Have I not taught you? Such childish blackmail is _beneath _my dignity. Instead, Cinder, I tell you what you should _truly _know—that you must hold this truth against _yourself. _We create ourselves, through our thoughts and our words and our deeds, and Cinder..." she let the meaning hang for a moment before continuing, her words tolling like a great bell, "_you alone know who you really are."_

Cinder exhaled, realizing that she had been holding her breath as Salem spoke. But her words had such a feeling of finality, Cinder knew that it was time for her to depart; there would be no further answers from the Queen of the Grimm. Mumbling some appreciative words for the Queen's mercy, she turned and left in a daze.

Stumbling her way back to her private quarters, Cinder hardly acknowledged the Seers she stepped past as her mind wandered, foggily, between thoughts and emotions. Salem's words echoed in her voice, the verse to the chorus of what she had said to Emerald, that horrible meeting when she had bared her soul to… to someone who was more than she was. A girl she'd thought of as annoying or simple who'd… who'd _refused _to carry out her purpose because _she was not a murderer. _

Not like Cinder.

Nothing at all like Cinder.

War was on the cusp of history and Cinder had barricaded herself in her quarters, passing the time with a bottle of gin, hearing the crashes and _booms _of living titans bringing their might to bear upon the world. She wasn't sure if it was the guilt or the fear that drove her to the bottle, but whatever it was, Cinder had been tested and she had _failed. _Fell to pieces when things got real, when the fuses were lit and the children she'd spent years turning into monsters were unleashed upon the world.

When Cinder was young, before she became a part of history itself, she'd seen the power drink held over those who succumbed to it. She drank, of course, everyone did where she was from, there wasn't another _option _than drinking, but she had resolved never to let it _rule _her. Life without masters, she had sworn to herself, neither serving under the dominion of poverty or people, she would chart her own path! But…

She'd really failed at both of them, hadn't she? Even while convincing herself she had found a way out. Salem, she had convinced herself, was simply someone who could not be resisted _and _that the Queen respected her talents. Cinder could become something without bowing to the yoke of authority. Just as she saw a drink to steady her nerves was just _ritual. _That she was the one who _chose_ to drink, that she could stop any time… just as she was the one who _chose _to carry out Salem's will. A lie and a lie and a lie all building up until the world turned right to hell and Cinder discovered the _truth _of who she was when the lies were cast away.

But Emerald… Emerald and Blake and Pyrrha, in their worst, darkest moments, with blood on their hands and desperation in their eyes, had, each and all, held back on the precipice. They had means, motive, and opportunity, blades in hand, the necks of the guilty exposed to them, and they had… they had found a different way.

While Cinder drank herself stupid.

Salem was right. Only Cinder knew who she truly was—the face she showed to Jaune was a lie. The face she showed to Emerald was a lie. The face she showed _herself _was a lie, even if it was too flimsy to fool her for long. As was the face she showed to Salem. The Queen saw through it. Of course she did—what _didn't_ Salem know? She already knew, she had received _detailed updates _on the plan Cinder had engineered to kill Jaune, to cause such _anguish _in his sisters that they would become the monsters he feared they might be. Even as he made her _promise _to protect them, Cinder was already setting up their anguish and seeding Remnant with conspiracies that would see him dead. She knew Parents Night would end in disaster, but pushed for it, lying that it was for their own good. Lying to Jaune the next day to _beg _for his protection. She manipulated the Schnees and the Belladonnas, guiding Merlot and Black to them, guaranteeing that they would turn their resources to murder. Even as Emerald _broke her down _to her loathsome, cowardly core, Cinder still plotted against her, lying to her as surely as she was lying to herself, acting the pathetic, miserable creature she was in truth so no one would suspect that a pathetic, miserable creature could still do such terrible acts.

She was a wretched thing, thinking she was entitled to thoughts of self-pity while she _knew _that if she had any compassion or decency, she never would have put Emerald through the agony of watching her siblings suffer and die—she had _meant _to kill Jaune, the one truly _noble _person she had ever met, in the hopes that spilling his blood would turn Emerald into a beast. She had plotted...

With trembling hands, Cinder reached for her scroll and opened it up, swiping through her security system until she found the one thing _no one else knew about her._ A file she had concealed from everyone. But she had to see it, had to _remind _herself that just because it was buried, didn't mean it wasn't real. It was the one thing even Queen Salem did not know about Cinder. A plot darker than Cinder would believe she was capable of if she didn't begin it herself. A dossier, a photo of a green-haired Vacuan girl.

Princess Emerald Vacuo.

The real one, though even thinking the word _real _about her felt like a whipcrack of shame across Cinder's mind. The daughter of King Hansa and Queen Musa, the Crown Princess of Vacuo in hiding. The Summer Maiden, granted the powers of the Maidenhood as a desperate measure of protection, hidden away from the world. The world, Salem and Ozpin included, believed the powers were held by a different girl, with their daughter being just a politically embarrassing state secret. Salem had discarded the princess's existence as unnecessary to her plans, the world of Remnant doing enough to cause chaos with it without any of their help. But Cinder knew it had _value _to her, even beyond the power the Maiden possessed. This dossier had been a secret project of Cinder's own invention, something she couldn't blame on the witch. It was something Cinder always had in her pocket, something… something to pass on to Emerald. If she ever _truly _wanted to tip her over the edge, she had this. To control her.

She just had to present the information to Emerald. Directly or indirectly, perhaps slip it through somewhere Blake would see it, the dutiful sister knowing that Emerald had a _right _to know this. Show her the proof that she was only a replacement, show her the girl who grew up with parents who loved her so much they would hide her away and cast an orphan into the nest of cruelties Emerald had grown up in. Or Cinder could present it herself, earning the favor of the woman she was casting down a bloody path. Give the Shrike the name, the location, where she could get revenge, where she could _claim _her birthright, where she could wet her beak with blood… Cinder kept the info always close at hand, _just in case she needed it._

Because the real Cinder, the Cinder only Cinder herself knew, was not a broken wretch. No, she was a cruel, conniving woman who plotted how to manipulate the one person who was truly close to her, _just in case she needed to. _The real Cinder was a woman who kept a fuse ready to light, a truly great pain to inflict upon one of the only people she truly cared for, the only person in the entire world who truly cared for her, just to _prove_ that she would break as surely as Cinder herself had.

_You alone know who you really are._

Looking at it, she wanted to deny it. To pretend that she _wasn't _that woman, that it was all just a strategy to survive, something she was forced to do by circumstance, but Salem was right: Cinder's deeds told a truer story than her words. She had spent years manipulating these children, abusing their trust and endangering them, all for her own gain. She plotted their suffering and even murder, just because she saw it as a chance to advance herself. And… to drag Emerald down with her, if she seemed to be growing _too _much.

Tears were streaming down her face, she had crumpled to the floor, as though her body tried to deny what was so obviously true. Weiss, simple, childlike Weiss had put it to her, that if there was something she didn't _want _to do, she could… simply not do it. When Jaune was holding on by a thread, Pyrrha had refused to seek revenge. Blake, the darkest of the claimed, had, in her worst moment, been given the perfect opportunity to kill, to do what she had been _born _to do. And she refused. She couldn't bring herself to do it. They all had, faced with the opportunity to do _perfectly justified _evil, the kind Cinder had done everything she could to subtly convince them to do… but they had refused.

Cinder had no such excuse. No secret manipulators, no indoctrination by ancient malevolence, and yet, when Weiss had told her she could _just not do it, _after Emerald had broken her down, after she had every chance to _stop everything… _Cinder had gone forward. Had seen these children, these brave, brave children, face their inner darkness and she had been the one to plot their demise. She was weak. She would always be weak.

_You alone know who you really are._

Some mad impulse seized her that it was not too late. Shaking the tears from her eyes and wiping the snot from her face, Cinder forced herself onto her feet. They had… they had nearly done unforgivable things, and they had backed away. Pyrrha had torn a girl's arm off, and she could find a way to forgive herself! Cinder just… just had to _go to them now, _and tell them the truth of Salem's plans. Get them to _flee _back to Beacon, they'd be safe there, and she'd be...

What, forgiven? Did she think she'd be _forgiven?_ Admit to Jaune that his attempted assassination had been her plan? Admit to him that _she _had been the one who'd endangered his sisters, tried to make them into _murderers,_ almost succeeded with that poor girl who'd lost her arm? Jaune could forgive the people who tried to kill him. He would _never _forgive Cinder for what she had tried to do- had _done _to his sisters.

She would die. And whatever she might think of herself, _Cinder was afraid to die._

She was a coward. A wretched, cowardly, miserable _thing _of a woman, no moral backbone, no strength to be found where it counted. If she was only a little braver, she might just _slit her throat and save them the time-_

But…

Wasn't that what Jaune had just gone through? He'd tried to _kill himself,_ while she just watched, let it happen, _encouraged _it, even, and now, now the Queen had him thrown in that wretched, monstrous _pit,_ the source of his nightmares. To punish him. For _being alive. _And here was Cinder, wallowing in self-pity while these children… they needed her. Needed her to, for once, follow their lead. Be brave the way _they _were.

Dammit all.

If there was a hell, she was already in it. There wasn't a torment she could imagine worse than living with her cowardice any longer. Stepping out of her quarters, she tried to walk with dignified purpose, but every step seemed to _scream _at her until she'd broken into a run, heading to her destiny and the end of the world.

**Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!**

**Ever since writing Let The Dead Lie, I've had a soft spot for writing Cinder wrestling with morality and an inability to do good even when she _wants _to. This isn't a redemption narrative, but about _conversion_. Cinder's trying to literally defect from Salem, but she's also trying to convert to the side of good, to become someone who does good things for good reasons instead of her moral incontinence. This chapter was written well before "Midnight" aired, and while I briefly thought about changing things to make it more canon compliant, I liked the idea of this Cinder being from a dead-end mining town, seeing her inevitable death by despair and fleeing for something better. She's been struggling for a selfish kind of freedom that only finds her bound more tightly into servitude, but now... now she's going to break out. **

**Even if it kills her.**


End file.
